


i'd do it for you

by thejollypirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 71,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejollypirate/pseuds/thejollypirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Number one rule? Never lie to your two best mates when it comes to having a date after being five years relationship-less. They’ll show up at your door all the way from another city, bother you relentlessly, and leave you in a helpless state where you must play pretend with the one person you probably shouldn’t be playing pretend with. CS Fake Dating AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A change of pace. I'm not abandoning my other WIP "keep passing me by," I'm at a roadblock at the moment - I've had a rather easy time writing this one however. Any thoughts/comments are appreciated.

Urge flows through Killian Jones to leave the group chat he’s been put in - it’s quite an overwhelming urge as well. They’re not discussing something he’s particularly fond with, and it’s far too obvious for him to understand all of his friends antics. They’re attempting to get Killian to go out and find a date, to move past some of his old heartbreak from five years ago. However, he finds that difficult because it wasn’t just any heartbreak, it was one of those earth-shattering ones, the ones which are painful, and the wound tends to linger for so long he’s never even considered about moving on in the first place. But then again, his mates always bring it up at some point, whether it’s intentional or not.

 

The thunder rumbling outside, for it’s an oddly different sort of weather out here in Storybrooke today. It’s one of those hit and miss weather forecasts, but tonight is one of those wild exceptions. It’s a downfall of pouring rain outside, the weather is quite dark and gloomy, and all he hears is the pitter-patter of rain hitting his window. The wind outside is also quite a change, the loud, howling sounds echoing and muffled. Lightning briefly flashes for the merest second, his dark living room of his modern, small apartment being litten up for the slightest moment.

 

It’s one of those days; those nights.

 

Messages light up on his phone screen, but knowing exactly who they’re coming from, he refuses to pick it up and slide his finger across the screen to unlock it. Well, it’s not until there’s an incoming phone call, which isn’t exactly from any of his friends, but his partner from work. You see, he works for the Storybrooke Police, being an investigator of the sorts, much like the deputy to the sheriff.

 

Quickly grabbing his phone and answering the call, the familiar feminine voice shines through. The winds outside are still going crazy, the rather loud wailing and high-pitched noises frequently making itself present in the sudden weather.

 

“Hello, Swan,” he greets, pulling his curtain back to glance out the window of his living room. Weather is not very cooperative today, and because it’s quite atrocious out there, he’s not very keen on going outside. “To what do I owe the pleasure tonight, lass?”

 

“You’re seeing the weather out there, right?” she asks.

 

He nods, even though she can’t see it. “Aye, it’s quite the sudden change,” he responds, backing away from the window and pulling the curtain back. He reaches over to flick the light on, finally lighting his room properly, no longer being in the dark. “What of it?” He settles back comfortably onto the couch, kicking his feet up over the arm.

 

A sigh is what he hears from her. “I’m going to need you to come in as soon as this storm subsides so we can evaluate how much damage has been caused.” There’s a ruffle of footsteps from her. “I don’t think you, David, or I will get any rest for the next day or two because of this. Was this sudden storm even broadcasted on the weather report?”

 

“From what I remember, no, it was not reported accurately, not to this extent of course.” He eyes the window before he drags his gaze back to the wooden door of the entrance across from him. “They had said the least of the storm would affect us here, but clearly, that is not a very true statement now.”

 

The thing about Emma Swan is that she’s one of the most stubborn women he’s ever encountered before. Nevertheless, she’s a brilliant lass, and tough too, so this job she’s procured herself fits her quite well. Besides her being a stubborn arse similar to how he is - and even his brother, Liam - Emma is quite the ambitious and intellectual for who she is.

 

“Alright, well I just needed to call to tell you of our plans for tomorrow morning,” she says. “Coffee tomorrow morning as the usual?”

 

He smiles to himself, knowing he still keeps his coffee routine up with her. “Aye, as the lady wishes.”

 

“Still incorrigible as usual, Jones.” She yawns. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Good night, Swan,” he wishes right before her side of the call hangs up. As the screen flashes out of call mode, he takes in the fact that it’s nearing midnight and that he should probably head to bed so he can wake up early to deal with all the longing commotion that is building up for tomorrow morning.

 

And so, that’s exactly what he does. Turning the lights off, the darkness following him down the hallway to the washroom, and then the bedroom, he gathers himself together and heads to get his rest. Though the sound of thunder never stops roaring like a lion, which makes it rather difficult for him to fall asleep, but as the storm calms down for a short period of time, it gives him the perfect opening to finally drift away into a deep, required slumber.

 

When morning rises, long awaited sunshine floods through the curtains, the faint light warming his skin gently. His hair is a complete mess, probably from tossing and turning to the inconstant reminder of Milah being gone from his life, the lingering heartbreak of pain which resides deep inside the chambers of his heart. Through a wave of frustration, he brings his hand up and scrubs his face, which ends up going through his hair, tousling it into an even larger mess.

 

The red numbers on the bedside table say it’s 6:39AM, and he’s hardly ready to deal with driving around and speculating on reparations that need to be made. It’s just with a huff of a breath being blown out when he finally does urge himself out of the bed. It’s a quick get ready thing, going through a change of his clothes, grabbing his wallet and phone, and then he’s out the door. The damage is quite mind blowing, but not exactly unexpected when he takes two steps out of the apartment.

 

Pavement grounds have still yet to dry, there are branches and leaves everywhere, some signs destroyed and sprawled across the streets and properties, and even car damage to windows.

 

A quick drop-by at Granny’s leaves him smiling again, Ruby serving him the usual two cups of dark black coffee, freshly prepared just as the norm. When he steps back outside, the breeze makes him shiver as he adjusts to the sudden change in temperature from the insides to the out. He spots the familiar yellow VW bug parked outside the station, which means she’s already arrived. He greets her and she glances up from the rather outdated computer sitting on the table.

 

“Coffee for two,” he states, handing her a cup.

 

She nods curtly, flashing a short, soft smile. “Thanks, Jones.”

 

He leers over at the monitor, and it’s downloading some files which he most likely recognizes himself. “Security feed, I gather?” he asks, taking a sip from his caffeinated drink. “There mustn’t be anything pleasant on these recordings if we’re to watch them anytime soon.”

 

“Yeah. But in case we miss out on surveying anything, I have a backup plan,” she answers cooly, leaning back in the chair and sighing. “David’s coming by later today because he needs to deal with the Mayor. Let’s get going.”

 

Of course the remainder of the morning is complaints from store owners and residents. It’s insufferable really, he’s not the most patient when it comes to people throwing their shit at him, but it’s his job, and what Emma says and does, he has to follow anyways.

 

They’ve been partners for two years now. Ever since Milah, it had taken him two years to finally build himself up to find another job, somewhere out of Boston and the city life. Although Storybrooke wasn’t his ideal place at first, it’s slowly grown on him, seeping into his skin as it’s slowly becoming a silhouette of a home to him. Home. There’s nothing here that really reminds him of his first home in England besides the fact there’s a local docks which he tends to hang out by when he gets the chance to. Watching the tides go against the wooden planks, fishermen’s ships going in and out of port. It just reminds him of England. Where Liam and his wife Elsa is.

 

Gods, his brother; always one to be as stubborn as he can be. A suckup in most cases, doing everything as told before he decided to retire from the Navy earlier; after meeting Elsa. Of course he’s happy for his older brother, the man who had raised him from a young lad. But being so far apart, split by the seas and riptides, he doesn’t get to visit often. Only phone calls and Skype manages to substitute in for the lack of actual confrontation in real life.

 

The mood between him and Emma changes quite rapidly, neither to their liking. Soon, both of them need to let out frustration, and thank the damned that it’s the end of their shifts for the day. David takes over for the remainder of the day. However, the grey skies are clouding over again, the fog becoming a light surrounding in the town. The weather never stops to cease and amaze him at just how frequent it changes. He nods and says his farewell to Emma for the night. Sticking his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket, he strides back to his apartment, back to the comfort of his own little residence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Killian Jones,” he introduces himself, taking her handshake. It’s firm, it sends a shiver down his spine because he can see the determination, devotion. He can see right through her, read her simply like she’s an open book. The gumption of hers amazes him, it’s actually quite fascinating. “Swan is a very befitting name for you, m’lady.”_

_“Hard to find people like you around here nowadays,” Emma simply states, her eyes glimmering with that green. “How long have you been in the US?”_

_“I’d say eight years, give or take a few months,” he answers honestly, though he doesn’t exactly recall much from his beginnings, his new fresh start here in America. Just knows he studied law enforcement, had a group of douche friends who bother him often, and that now he lives here in Storybrooke, Maine with a job opportunity he has taken a major advantage over. “Not in any means of disrespect, lass, but why’d you ask?”_

_“It’s called getting to know my partner,” she replies in a lighthearted tone. “How good are you with putting pieces of evidence together?”_

_“I’d wager I’m quite capable of doing so, but that would just be me making an educated guess. If you consider positively passing with a high mark back in college good, then perhaps I may just suffice enough for what you need me of.” He chuckles, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. “How can I be of assistance on my first day, Swan?”_

_“Ah, so we go for surnames.”_

_“I told you, it sounds well on you.”_

_“Well, let’s get to work, Jones. Storybrooke is a quaint town, and there’s usually not a lot of crimes circling around town, so it won’t be too difficult of a job to handle,” she explains, reaching for the jacket slung over her chair. It’s red and leather. It fits her. “For one, you’re new around here, so I think what’s best is that I show you around first. How does that sound? We can deal with actual business tomorrow.”_

_“Sounds swell, lass.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Here comes another round of rum for him, swirling his glass as he perches on the edge of his bed, remembering some rather interesting things.

 

His phone is a constant reminder. The messages popping up all from Robin and Will, and eventually some show up as Victor’s. Robin and Will are still in Boston, but Victor had ended up in Storybrooke with him, being the new doctor at the main hospital in the small town. But that’s besides the point. The point is that his friends have been trying to get him back into dating for years now, and it’s been endless amounts of texts and a couple of short-lasting phone calls.

 

Five years since Milah had left, it left him that empty void in his heart, a calling of darkness and echoes, nothing more than familiar voices and a sting of pain. It was a too-good-to-be-true relationship, she had been ripped away from him. The spelling out of her name in his brain hurts to even think about, so he takes another swig at the rum which helps the pain numb. It never really does solve anything permanently of course, but sometimes he wonders what would happen if he does open up his heart again. What would happen if he does give his heart to another woman one day? More pain, for one, but what about love? Right now, he’s staying on guard.

 

It’s late for him, but he snaps his laptop open and goes on Skype to talk to Liam. They talk and talk, about the stupid things, the good memories… and then he asks Liam how Elsa’s doing. It’s a big surprise, but she’s pregnant, and that mean’s his dear brother is becoming a father, and he’s becoming an uncle. Killian is beyond ecstatic and excited for his brother, but the happiness and bond between them makes him suffer to know he’ll never truly have that.

 

And then his brother asks if he’s looking for anyone, and of course, he lets him down and says “not at the moment,” which should give his brother some hope. False hope, at the most. “I’ll look for a woman on my own time, brother,” he states, shaking his head lightly.

 

“It’s been five years, little brother. Moving on will make it better, that I can promise you. Has your brother broken a promise before?”

 

“Younger brother, Liam. And actually, aye, you have broken a promise before.”

 

“That was a one time thing, Killian. I hadn’t realized until you actually told me because I was sloshed off my own arse!” Liam exclaims, his lips curling into a smile, and then it turns into an entire laugh. “You know I just want you to be happy.”

 

“I’ve been told many a times,” he deadpans as a response, raking a hand through his hair. “I can assure you I’m perfectly happy with what I currently have,” he says, “because life here in Storybrooke has been quite the adventure, even with the little crime here.”

 

Liam sighs and then yawns. "Whatever you say. Anyways, I think it's time I go get ready for work."

 

“Ah yes. Boating business going well? And send my regards to Elsa," he says, "I'll be seeing you later."

 

“Has been going exceptionally well,” Liam answers, "and absolutely. Bye, little brother."

 

The Skype call ends on that note, leaving Killian to notice it's well past midnight and that he should be sleeping. Getting up, he sets the laptop back on his small desk, and goes to dispose of his empty glass. Leaving England was always a difficult decision, but he had needed it more than anything, to finally find something he was interested in doing. When he had chosen law enforcement, he hadn't nearly predicted for himself to actually excel at the entire branch, but he did, and now he has a stable job with decent income which he definitely isn't complaining about.

 

And do not get him started on his talented partner, Emma Swan. She is beautiful, and a hard working person, and he acknowledges her for the work she does around Storybrooke. Given that it's a small town, almost everyone tends to know who you are, especially if you're more of authority than a regular resident in town. He can take one step into Granny's and everyone will greet him. He doesn't mind this recognition though, he's rather grown fond and used to it already.

 

The next day just consists of cleanup duty, and the weather has started to warm up again. And this time the weather is not going to have another outburst of some thunder or rainstorm. He shrugs his leather jacket off and throws it on the roof of the cruiser, rolls his sleeves up on his shirt and gets down to business. It's picking up destroyed branches that block the road, throwing them in the garbage or to the side of the road. He can't even keep track the number of times he's already had to bend down and chuck some branches away. Overnight damage always proves to be horrendous to deal with.

 

His senses never betray him though, he knows when someone is watching him intently, and just like that, he realizes Emma is watching him from a distance. "See something you like, Swan?" he boldly asks, throwing away one last branch for this road. "You are not very subtle, take that as some advice."

 

"Assessing your progress," she responds, shaking her head with a small smile. "But I'd be lying if I said you don't look attractive doing all this work." She leans against the car. "That reminds me... I've never seen you around with another woman. You're wasting your good looks, Jones; put it to use."

 

"Are you insisting that I get a girlfriend?" He scoffs, taking steps closer toward her until they're inches apart. "If you think I'm so devilishly handsome, why don't you have a boyfriend? You're beautiful of course, any man to ever refuse you must be bloody daft." He smirks cocking his eyebrow at her. "You're wasting your good looks, Swan; put it to use." Steering the conversation away is the only way he's going to survive this, because although he can claim her as a friend, he's never considered telling her about his previous heartbreak. It's never really came across his mind before.

 

"I can't tell if you're brave or stupid for talking to your boss like that," she mutters, rolling her eyes at his response.

 

He grins and shrugs. "I'd wonder what's the difference between the two," he says. Killian leans in, his lips next to her ears. "Besides, Dave is more of my boss, not you," he drawls, teasing her patience with his ways. Now, one thing he's learned is that he quite enjoys torturing her, because according to her, he's infuriating and annoying sometimes. He finds joy in her dramatic suffering.

 

"I'm the one who hired you, I think that sets a fine line between who can be your boss," she declares, placing a hand on his chest and shoving him away. "How many times do I need to tell you to keep your distance from me? I don't want people thinking we're together." It's a broad statement, she's said it many times before, but he just doesn't care.

 

"Swan, besides the lot of time we spend together at work, we rarely see each other otherwise. No one would be that quick and incompetent to assume we're dating," he protests, cocking his head to the side. "Does it bother you that much to where you can’t be seen around me? Oh, or is it because of my dashing features? Unable to _resist_ me?" he goes on, provoking her in any possible, vulnerable way just to get on her nerves.

 

She curses something under her breath. "W-what, you’re ridiculous," she mumbles, closing her eyes.

 

Her stuttering nervousness surprises him. He chuckles. "You didn't answer my question, so I'll just assume you do find me hard to resist.” He throws his arms behind his head and leans back against the car, looking up at the sky. “What a wonderful thought to spare in my mind, lass."

 

 _Bloody buggering hell_ , he thinks as his phone vibrates in his pocket, shocking him from the moment. He’s already stacking up the three names, expecting it to be one from the list. Of course, it’s from Robin, so he excuses himself from Emma, and saunters off a fair distance before he answers the phone.

 

“I’m at work, mate,” he tells Robin, which is more like a reminder. “What do you want?”

 

“Just checking up on my friend, is that an issue?” Robin retaliates.

 

Killian laughs bitterly, knowing exactly what that means when he says ‘checking up on my friend’ because it’s not as casual as most people expect it to be. “Very much of an issue when it’s not check about a casual check up, Robin. You’re horrid at telling lies,” Killian says, leaning against one of the buildings. “Is this about me getting a girlfriend now?”

 

“No, not today.”

 

“Then what exactly has pulled you into calling me today?”

 

“Are you happy with where you are right now? As in Storybrooke, your job and such, are you enjoying your life there?”

 

Killian blows out a breath with his answer of, “Aye, I am.”

 

“That’s relieving,” Robin responds. “Anyways, didn’t you say your boss is a woman?”

 

“Robin, bloody hell! She’s my partner in justice, not some crush. We keep it professional,” Killian exclaims, rubbing his face with his hand. _Usually professional_ , he thinks.

 

“But you’ve talked about her before!”  That is not Robin’s voice, it’s… Will Scarlet. The drunkard of the entire group. “You like her, mate! The blonde, ey?”

 

“I am not having such an inappropriate conversation now, I was humbly working before this phone call had interrupted me, nor am I oblivious to the constant fact that you’re still trying to get me to date again.” He sighs, glancing over to where Emma is talking to a newly-arrived David, the Sheriff. “It’s been pleasant having a talk with you mates, but I must get back to work.”

 

“This conversation isn’t over, ya wanker!” Will shouts.

 

“Sod off.” And with that, he hangs up the call, sticks his phone back into his jeans pocket and walks back toward the two figures by the car.

 

“Important phone call?” Emma asks, glaring at him.

 

Concealing his secrets, he shakes his head. “Nothing of the sorts - friends who are an absolute pain in the arse if you want specifics.”

 

David chuckles. “Well, let’s get back to work. We have a thief on the loose apparently.”

 

Emma looks at him like she’s surprised. “A thief?”

 

“Don’t ask me. It was reported earlier this morning while you guys were cleaning.”

 

Killian grabs his jacket off the hood of the car. “I don’t mean to be a snob and take all the lovely credit, but there’s a correction to be made to your statement Dave - while _I_ was cleaning.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner. With the Nolans, how lovely.

 

What the hell is he doing, attending a dinner with Emma and the Nolans?

 

He doesn’t particularly think it’s a good idea of course, but how can refuse? David is practically his best mate nowadays since Robin and Will still live in Boston, and with Victor always busy at the hospital - even without people going there - he still finds himself without a friend besides Emma. So, he hasn’t been the most social around town, and the only thing he’s ever really done besides stay home or drop by The Rabbit Hole or Granny’s would be the library, where the lovely Belle works.

 

She’s a nice lass, polite and cheerful most of the time. But, he sees her nothing but a mere friend that he’ll maybe talk to once or twice a week.

 

So no, he’s not that social, and ever since he’s started working, he hasn’t been focused on being social or making connections and networking with other humans in town. And no, he doesn’t feel that lonely because he knows precisely the choice he’s chosen the moment he stepped into town. He’s stretched himself as far as he can go now, at least for the time being, and two years of being in Storybrooke has been the calmest couple of years in his life. Everything is going smoothly, so why let a gathering for dinner bother him? Not that it does - okay, maybe a little bit nervous, but it _shouldn’t_ be nervousness torturing him.

 

And tonight proves to be far worse because Will texts and bashes on him for the abrupt ending of a phone call three days ago - he was doing his damned job as a law enforcer - which concluded of a brief conversation which he doesn’t want to bring up again. Emma Swan is a friend, a coworker, but his friends never see past that, so decidedly, it’s time for him to fight back and say some things that might trouble him later, but at the moment, it seems like a fabulous idea.

 

_Will: You said what?_

_Killian: That’s right, after some considerate time to myself, I have procured myself a lady to court, and tonight we’re having dinner. However, I am not going to bore you with any immediate details, let alone tell you who I’m going after._

_Will: It’s the blonde eh?_

 

He sighs and shakes his head, looking at that message coming from Scarlet. Blunt as always.

 

_Killian: I didn’t peg you to think I’d have a thing for women with blonde hair, mate._

_Robin: Well, she’s the only one you’ve ever mentioned before, so would it be that bad to assume it’s her?_

_Killia: Perhaps not, but I’d rather keep this to myself, lads. I’ve yet to know if she’s worth the chase, but she is a wonder to break down. And the only reason I’ve ever mentioned her is because she’s my bloody boss._

_Will: It’s her._

_Robin: Definitely her._

_Killian: Your quick assumptions will get you no where, and I, for one, will not be telling you guys any more details besides the fact that I am moving on. This was just to prove to you I am perfectly happy, and will do whatever I want when I please. :)_

 

_Robin: You’re being awfully secretive about this entire thing, Jones._

_Killian: It would definitely be bad form to discuss these things for they are private and none of your business._

He chuckles to himself. He’s lying, but not lying. He’s going out to dinner, but it’s technically not a date. Killian’s just going to let them keep going about, because this is his time for redemption and revenge.

_Robin: I believe you, but I also don’t believe you at the same time._

_Killian: Believe what you want, Robin; that’s what everyone else tends to think._

Carefully setting his phone back on the table, he starts contemplating on what to wear. Something casual, but not too casual, something a little bit more fancy- sophisticated if that’s the term to describe the possibility of attire for the night.

 

He eyes his phone, and picks it up again, decidingly to text Emma. He needs a piece of her mind here.

 

_Killian: Hello, Swan. I was wondering for the dinner tonight, do we go for casual clothing?_

_Emma: Are you asking me for fashion advice? That’s hilarious._

_Killian: I merely want to dress appropriately for the occasion, and you were at my disposal since I did not want to ask Dave._

_Emma: Afraid David is going to make fun of you for asking?_

 

He grins, staring at the screen. He can almost read that to know it’s with that teasing tone of voice she has.

 

_Killian: Reading me so easily. :)_

_Emma: Well, I’ll be going for casual clothing - jeans, sweater etc. It’s not like we’re going there for a formal meeting, unless I’ve missed out on some note. If so, then I’ll be royally screwed because dinner with the Nolans always turn out to be quite overwhelming._

_Killian: Thank you for your input and warning, I will come to prepare myself for what’s awaiting at their residence._

_Emma: See you soon, Jones._

_Killian: Likewise, Swan._

 

Searching his closet, he settles for a blue and black plaid shirt and black jeans. Casual it is.

 

_6:32._

 

He’s punctual, and a lot of the time, he’s earlier. By the time he gets to the Nolan household, which is a small loft which practically fits for about two people, it’s nearing 7, but he’s still early. He knocks at the door, and it immediately swings open with Mary Margaret smiling brightly. They greet, and talk for a bit, and then Emma drops by. His eyes drift quickly to her, and she wasn’t lying about jeans and a sweater, because that’s exactly what she’s wearing.

 

Overwhelming it is, he’s never expected such an elaborate dinner gathering, but he must admit it’s fantastic. The food all well prepared, a couple of libations, casual discussion about nothing in particular. At least not until relationships. It’s like the world is entirely against him with the entire thing, when will he ever get a break from all this dating stuff? He’s simply not interested at the moment - at least that’s the excuse he’s been using for the past… what, three years or so? Somewhere around there. To be honest, he’s just unsure. He’s actually _happy_ here in Storybrooke, he doesn’t want to ruin that.

 

“Killian, you into dating?” David asks, handing him a beer.

 

He scoffs, as if it’s a ridiculous question. “Not at the moment, no,” he answers, taking a drink. “I’ve had this conversation far too many times, Dave. You’re not the first one who’s asked me that question.”

 

“So _that’s_ what you meant by annoying friends the other day.” Ah, the man’s got good memory, and that’s just great.

 

“Aye.”

 

“You know, Emma hasn’t dated anyone since she was nineteen,” David whispers, being mindful of the fact they aren’t far away from them. “She’s… been through a lot as a kid.”

 

“I can tell.” He takes another swig. “That can explain the reasons of why she’s always so guarded. She’s a tough lass, so whatever has happened back in her buried history of dust must explain how she’s gotten to her position now.”

 

“Yeah. It’s not my story to tell, but I think you deserve to know a bit about her,” David responds. “It’s been a long time since she’s chosen to ever trust anyone again, let alone befriend them. So you,” he points the beer at him, “need to watch out for her when I can’t. She needs someone to be there for her, you’re the only other guy around in her life who she can believe in.”

 

He sighs; needing someone to be there is quite important. “Trust me, Dave. I wouldn’t harm her, and that won’t ever change around here.”

 

“Good.”

 

When the dinner finally ends, everyone has a smile on their face and they’re all saying goodbye. However, with the brief words exchanged with David, curiosity does strike him. But then again, the saying goes with curiosity killed the cat. He definitely doesn’t want to risk the wonderful friendship they have between them, it’s too good to be harmed. And he’s promised David he’ll protect her more than hurt her, and he’s keeping that to his heart.

 

“Well that went well,” Emma abruptly says out of nowhere, rolling her shoulders. “You seemed pretty comfortable - fitting like like a pro and all.”

 

“What can I say, Swan? I know how to charm everyone.”

 

She laughs. "Do you really?"

 

"Come on, love, you can't tell me you haven't been taken aback by my charm. If my looks are as dashing as we all know, where's the harm in me being charismatic too?" he asks, grinning. Their hands brush against each other, but he doesn't bring any attention to the accidental contact.

 

"You're so full of yourself, now I really wonder how I even put up with all of your ego." She shakes her head. "Maybe it's because you bring me coffee every morning. Yeah, I'll settle for that as the reason of how I deal with you."

 

"Too stubborn to admit the truth again."

 

She falls silent, her gaze dragging to the floor. He watches her intently, the mood changing as quickly as ever. He walks her back to her apartment, which isn't a far distance from his. Storybrooke doesn't have that many places to live, so of course distance has never proven to be any issue. It's not uncomfortable, but he doesn't want to ask why she suddenly goes quiet, nor does he intend to ask anytime soon, not unless she chooses to initiate the conversation herself.

 

Before she enters the apartment, she stops and turns around, her eyes seeking his. Her green orbs are stunning, but the edge of her eyes seem like they're prickling with the temptation of tears, the threats of crying. Never has Killian Jones ever seen her cry before, so this is a change of events. She mumbles something, but pulls him in for a hug, and all he can do is bring his hands up and rub her back.

 

"I heard your conversation with David," she whispers. "Thank you. For being there for me, I mean. Even though you're a pain in the ass to deal with, I appreciate your concern for me."

 

He smiles and exhales a breath into her hair. "Not a problem, darling." Usually, he would joke around, but this doesn’t seem like one of those moments to kid with her, so he stays serious.

 

She pulls back, and her warmth is immediately gone, but he clings onto the feeling inside of him. "I'll tell you my story someday - when I'm ready to dive back into my shitty past." It sounds like a promise, a nearly broken one by the way she speaks - sad and lost, abandonment and fear, thick and foggy.

 

It nearly makes his heart shatter to see how devastated she is, just from remembering her own past. But, it's just a reminder that not everyone has a good beginning, and Emma Swan is one of those unfortunate victimized souls who suffered under poor conditions. Much like how he used to be compared to Liam so often, and though he did and does look up to him, Killian Jones is not Liam, he's different. But of course, having some wonderful older brother always makes people stack up expectations to be just as good as him, and that was always pissing him off endlessly.

 

“Goodnight, _Killian_.”

 

She hardly uses his first name, so it surprises him when she does. A small smile forms on his face at the way his name rolls of her tongue. “Goodnight, _Emma_ ,” he bids, watching her step inside, going out of his view.

 

There are many things going around in his mind, and they all revolve around Emma. Does he have feelings for her? Not specifically anything past friendship, no, but there is some underlying attraction on his side. It’s a one-sided thing, and it’s better to leave it as is, to ignore it - not bring it up and ruin anything between them. She basically just promised to tell him of her difficult past one day when she’s ready, and hell, he’d wait a million years for her, but he’s never considered anything more than friends. And then, the last thing on his mind is his ‘fake’ date he’s mentioned to his friends. At least, it is the last thing on his mind until he finally checks his phone which is flooded with consecutive texts from his friends about how it went.

 

Being bombarded by so many questions at once is overwhelming, and _god_ he just wants to block their numbers sometimes, but Killian can’t blame them for trying to look out for him. Unless it’s Will. Will is just a complete utter moron, and if he wasn’t so bad with talking to him a bit more normally, he wouldn’t be hating him as much. Maybe it’s the sudden assumptions that his fake date is Emma, well, the “blonde” because they don’t actually know her name. Way to go with keeping her identity a secret.

 

Discarding his clothes and getting into the shower, he constantly thinks about the way Emma had hugged him, disregarding the fact she always insists to keep a safe distance between the two of them. Perhaps she’s opening up to him? He doesn’t know for sure, but it’s a start to getting Emma to really trusting who he is. She’s always been slightly secretive, avoiding topics about family and other relationships. All he can really deduce from that it’s all part of her buried history.

 

With the drizzle of hot water raining down on his body, Milah pops back into his mind without his own permission. He groans, huffing out a breath of defeat before reaching for the shampoo and applying it. She was just ripped away from him, from a damn heart attack that was never even expected. She was perfectly healthy, but apparently something struck, like some sort of karma, and all of a sudden she died in his arms before the paramedics could arrive. How he would so want to go back and hold her, be happy, be adventurous, but that’s not in his cards now.

 

He snaps out of his thoughts when there is some extremely loud banging at the door, so he shuts the shower off, dries off super quickly, slips some spare clothes on and goes to answer the door. He expects it to be David, or the landlord - not that he has any issues with the landlord - but it’s not them, and he is majorly fucked in the ass now.

 

Oh, his friends going to get a very annoyed Killian Jones tonight.

 

“It’s eleven, nearing midnight, what in the seven hells are you two doing here?” Killian complains, nearing the edge of screaming at the top of his lungs. Now this is going just a bit too far.

 

Robin raises a questioning brow. “Your _date_ , how did that go?”

 

Will strides forward past Killian, letting himself and Robin in without an actual invitation inside. “Yeah, how did you fare during your lovely date, mate?” Will interjects with his own question, practically asking the same thing.

 

“Did you two honestly come here from Boston to bug me about a bloody date?”

 

Robin nods, dropping onto his couch. “Precisely was our plan, and now that we’re here, we’re going to bother you. It’s big news that you’ve been giving it a chance again! Have you told your brother?”

 

“No, because I don’t want to give any false hope,” he mutters, closing the door behind him. “It’s one thing to interrupt my shower, but another to start asking me questions.” He sighs. “My outing was quite marvelous, it was a nice dinner and I walked her home. We learned a bit about each other, and that was it. Must there be any more details I need to bore you with?”

 

Robin groans. “That’s it? What and where is the real Killian Jones?”

 

“I am the real Killian Jones, Locksley,” he hisses. “Anywho, I do not have any spare rooms for either of you, so it’s either you sod off to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, or return back to Boston. Don’t consider me liable for any of your unthought out decisions.”

 

“Not until we see your new girlfriend!” Will exclaims, punching him in the shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to keep us waitin’ would ya, mate?”

 

“Bloody hell, she isn’t my girlfriend, at least not yet,” Killian says, and technically it’s not a lie. She’s not his girlfriend, but the ‘yet’ part is much hope put into both of their minds as they both starting grinning. “It was one dinner, you two have made it the biggest deal in the world. I have work tomorrow, and I am not staying up to discuss my own personal matters with the likes of you two,” he says, his voice finally calming down. “So, if you two could kindly bugger off, that would be nice.”

 

“Fine, fine. But we’re staying for another week or two since the both of us needed a break from work,” Robin informs, and that news breaks him.

 

How the hell is he supposed to keep up his ruse for another week or two? Gods, he can’t just say they’re not going to be a thing, because then they’ll think he’s pushing people out and brushing the entire idea off entirely again. “We’ll get a drink sometime, but now is not that time. Goodnight to the two of you.” He pushes the both of them out of his apartment quickly without any second thoughts, and though Will attempts to protest, he slams the door and locks it, leaning back against it.

 

Just what did he get himself into?

 

A vast mess of nonsense - yes, that’s exactly what he’s gotten himself into. And though it was easy getting himself into it, it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to get out of it. How wonderful, putting himself on the spot, in his own little predicament he’s started.

 

Despite all his troubles, there’s only one person he can ask for help, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to screw everything up if he does ask. But, there isn’t harm in asking is there? If she denies his request, he’ll just merely explain to the guys that it didn’t work out between the two of them. It should be as simple as that - it’s not - and all he needs is a yes or no answer. And when he gets that answer- should it be a yes- he’ll just have to go more in depth with the terms with her. It’s a matter he shall discuss with her tomorrow.

 

Yes, tomorrow at work.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“You parked in my spot, Jones,” Emma accuses as she walks in with a unsatisfied face. More or less of a frown, but somewhat annoyed at him._

_He looks up from the folder he’s assessing, leaning against the edge of the wall. “Apologies, Swan, I hadn’t known there were specific name labels to where we park our own vehicles,” he retaliates, turning around and dropping the folder on the desk. “Had I known any earlier from the Sheriff that there were such stipulations, I would have considered parking my car elsewhere,” he drawls, tilting his head to the side, “but that’s too late now.” He winks at her, noticing the heat of anger._

_“Not a good impression to make on the person who can fire you any time, Jones,” she states, hanging her leather coat up. “There technically are no set of regulations on where you can park, but I for one find it more convenient to park where you have taken my spot.”_

_“Ah, then you can excuse me on my official first day because I found that spot convenient just as you did,” he retorts, sitting down on the chair._

_She opens her mouth to say something, but she purses her lips together and shakes her head at him, glancing down at the files on her desk. “You’re already giving me a headache, and the last time I checked, giving your boss a headache is never a good sign, especially in the mornings,” she utters, dropping down in her chair._

_Killian’s phone starts to ring, and it’s from David. Answering it, he tells him he needs his help identifying some evidence, needing his help with analysation, his strong suit. He sighs of contentment, because this life so far has been going smoothly. Storybrooke is just the place for him, he knows this now, and he doesn’t intend on leaving, and if he does, it won’t be until several years later. He confirms to David that he’ll be there as soon as he can._

_Stuffing the mobile device back in his pocket, he slips his leather jacket back on. “I would love to spend a little more time with you, Swan,” he reaches for the empty coffee cup and finishes what’s in it, “so I can make a better impression of course.” He gives her a boyish smirk. “However, Sheriff Nolan needs my assistance today.” Before he heads out the office, his hand on the handle, he turns back. “Oh, and Sheriff Swan?”_

_“What now?” she grumbles, looking over at him._

_“I hope your headache subsides now that I’m out of your vicinity.”_

_He can practically hear her silent screaming. He’s enjoying his time already._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Killian is there early at work today, arriving with the two coffees as usual - thank god he did not run into Will or Robin. He balances the coffee properly, unlocking the station doors before he’s inside and letting the steaming cup sit on Emma’s Sheriff desk. It’s 6AM, he’s half an hour early for the usual work time, so maybe he’s a bit anxious about having to ask her something like this - perhaps it’s too much too ask for, such an abrupt favour after the nights events. He shakes his head, shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over his chair.

 

It’s another fifteen minutes that passes by, where he’s going over some delayed paperwork does he hear the footsteps of boots, which are no doubt Emma’s, walking down the small corridor into the office. He glances up and nods at her, taking a sip out of his coffee. Without much else to do, he just finishes his coffee and goes over some final papers.

 

And maybe a couple of moments go by, but he can’t hold this damn thing in his head anymore. He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Swan, I’ve got something to ask you… If I’d ask you of a favour, a rather interesting one, would you help me?” He scratches behind his ear, a nervous tick he’s developed over the years. “It’s rather serious and embarrassing at the same time, and it’s a shame that I’d even have to approach you for it.”

 

She stops drinking her coffee, eyeing him carefully. “You being embarrassed?” she asks, placing her cup down. “Depends on what the favour is of course, but if it’s you claiming it’s embarrassing, I really am intrigued by what has gotten you to ask me for a favour.”

 

“It would be nice if you kept this much of a secret,” he tells her, sitting up properly. “I- well, I haven’t dated for five years now, and my mates back in Boston are rather insistent about me having a date. Last night, I had mentioned the dinner we were all having, and though I was partially lying, I just wanted them to bugger off. Hadn’t worked out so well, and they have decided to pay me a surprise visit last night, stating they were going to be staying a week or two, wanting to see who I went out with and-”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupts, her face shows amusement. “Five years?”

 

He nods. “A story for another day, perhaps?”

 

“Okay… and please don’t tell me you said I was your… you know… date.”

 

“Might as well not explain the rest of the story here if you’d prefer to be as perceptive as you usually are,” he mutters.

 

She lifts her cup up and tilts it toward him. “Sorry, sorry. Keep talking.”

 

“My mates, Robin and Will, they’re here technically just to see who I was out with. But due to their persistence, if i’m not seen with the _woman_ I was with at all, they’re going to start doubting me. I’d highly recommend to never lie to them if you ever befriend them. But, to cut the story short, I’d like you to play pretend for awhile, as my fake… well, it’s not a girlfriend, but just the person I am supposedly infatuated to. They may recognize you however, should you accept the other.”

 

“And why might they recognize me?”

 

“I’ve mentioned you once or twice as my superior, and all they know is that you have blonde hair. However, if they piece together the fact we’re at work together, well, then we’re busted of course.”

 

“I might be good at detecting lies, but I’m not so good at lying myself,” she says, sighing afterwards. “Do you know how you intend to deal with them?”

 

“Details are rather vague at the moment, aren’t they?” He chuckles. “If you’re willing to assist me in my crisis, I’ll be sure to elaborate further.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever had that moment where you're just writing and then that "OMFG THIS IS A GREAT IDEA" goes through your mind? Just happened to me.


	3. Chapter 3

“Nosy bastards interested in your love life basically.”

 

It’s a good way to summarize the lot of the two arseholes probably staying at Granny’s. “Aye. You really don’t have to do this, Swan; I know you might not believe this is much to your standards... Let alone playing a game with the man you despise so much because he tends to infuriate you so often.”

 

She laughs, as if this entire situation is just hysterical to her. “Calm down, Jones, this is an easy decision if you want me to be honest.”

 

Killian quirks an eyebrow up, narrowing his at her. “It is?”

 

“Did you forget the moment we shared last night? Since you look out for me, I’ll do it for you,” she explains, recalling the hug and small bit of an intimate conversation from the previous night. “I actually think it’ll be fun - you know, if they fall for it and all…” she trails off. “I mean, there’s nothing to do around Storybrooke at the moment, so why not?”

 

He sighs of relief, his body finally able to relax, no longer as tensed due to nervousness. “Gods, Emma, you are being a saviour right now.”

 

“Right,” she drawls, “so, details? Plans?”

 

His tongue grazes against his bottom lip. “Considering that they are here for another week or two, which I’m going to need to confirm specifics about on that, we should meet often - since we already do - and, I’ll introduce you to them.” He uses his feet to spin his chair back and forth. “I suppose we’ll need to cut in some practice, won’t we? One single dinner last night wasn’t enough, and from what I told them, I can assure you they’re on edge with satisfaction.”

 

“And you’re proposing-”

 

“That we have dinner together?” he finishes for her. “Yes.”

 

“I feel like you’ve somehow secretly manipulated me into being super kind to you, and I don’t recall ever liking you _that_ much, but… okay. Dinner it is.”

 

“Fantastic,” he remarks, smiling. “And, _love_?”

 

She looks up from the sheet in front of her, as if not only does the calling for her catch her attention, but also the way he starts using pet names. “Yeah?”

 

“Manipulation would be far too much work,” he teases. “I wouldn’t want to give you a _headache_ if I had been that relentless.”

 

“Nope, nope, _nope_. Don’t bring the headache topic up again otherwise it’s going to actually happen,” she says, evading the entire topic. “Anyways, is there anything else we need to discuss on our fake relationship?”

 

“Affectionate gestures, perhaps?” he suggests, shrugging. He has his limits, and though it’s Emma, though he does know her, he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable the entire time they’re doing this ruse. “Whatever you’re comfortable with of course. I am a gentleman.”

 

She scoffs. “Right. When were you a _gentleman_ again?”

 

He furrows his eyebrows, his lips turning into a small smirk just to tease her. “I’ll have you know, Swan, I’m _always_ a gentleman, and you can’t testify against that when you end up being my fake significant other at some point.” His coffee is starting to turn cold, and he doesn’t like cold coffee, so he starts to drink it again, making sure he leaves enough to finish off.

 

She’s looking at him with a foul sharp glare, much of a scowl to an extent. He smiles while he finishes up his coffee, dumping that cup in the garbage. After discussing those terms, it’s nearing 8AM, which means his time to take a round around town. He walks back and reaches for his leather jacket, slipping it on and checking his phone for any messages. His screen is a list of notifications coming from Robin, but since he was so busy talking to Emma, he hasn’t bothered to pay attention to what has been popping up on his cell’s screen.

 

“Mind grabbing me a grilled cheese when you get back from your round?” she asks from across the room.

 

Killian gives her a curt nod - he may have just forgotten Robin and Will could be residing there and he can just walk right in and get mugged of questions. “Of course,” he responds, going into his pocket for the keys. “See you later, love.”

 

Taking his car, he quickly starts it up and drives around town. Most shops are opening, people turning lights on, opening doors, setting up and so on. The weather is clear, the the breeze is gentle, unless that one night where it happened to be some major storm. It’s autumn, but that was just an unexpected all everyone was mildly prepared for. Storybrooke is being bathed by the sunlight now, the warmth spreading all over. He passes by a couple of familiar faces with his windows down, shouting a pleasant greeting or giving them an appreciative nod.

 

On his way back, he parks alongside the road at Granny’s. And was his prediction spot on when he thought he’d find Robin and Will there. He sighs and slips onto the stool at the counter, greeting Ruby with a small smile. “Grilled cheese to-go,” he says. When she asks if it’s with the onion rings, he decides sure, and so that’s added to his tab. His mind ponders about while he taps his fingers on the counter, trying to act completely oblivious to Robin and Will, although they’re clearly staring at him the entire time. He’s grown used to picking out voices and having a gut feeling when someone’s watching him.

 

He rummages into his pocket for his wallet, picking out a ten just as Ruby comes by with the food in a paper bag. “Keep the change, lass,” he mutters, taking the bag and his leave. If he’s not wrong, his mates should be following him right now. Getting into the car and turning the keys to the engine, he heads back to the station which isn’t too far. A minutes drive, really.

 

Technically, it _is_ a crime to be stalking around a law enforcer, but then is it a crime if it’s his friends? Probably still a crime, but they aren’t doing anything close to illegal activities unless they plan to slaughter or kidnap him. Which is both very unlikely situations - only Robin would be capable of even diverging into developing such a plan anyways. Will is too much of a bloody imbecile, too immersed with alcohol… and Killian’s love life.

 

“Swan, plan commences _now_ ,” he quickly says, dropping the bag on her desk. “My friends have decided to follow me here, and if I’m not wrong, they should be here any moment.”

 

“Calm down, we got this,” she whispers, shuffling her papers and standing up.

 

“I quite like the sound of _we_ ,” he quickly responds, getting rid of his jacket and pushing his sleeves up. “Then again we’ve always made quite the team.” He slides his feet across the floor quickly, and they both end up sitting on the couch by the window, acting as if they’re just talking.

 

“I’m tellin’ ya it was her! It must be,” Will hisses, trying to keep it quiet, although he’s failing miserably.

 

“Shut up, mate. You’re not very subtle, I’m sure he can the both hear us,” Robin responds.

 

The footsteps get progressively louder, and Killian and Emma just create some small talk about nothing really. Just simple conversations, food, colour, and anything else that’s possible just to seem like they’re enjoying themselves.

 

“Hey, Killian,” Robin greets, raising an eyebrow. “This is…”

 

“Emma Swan,” she says. “I’m his boss.”

 

“And…?”

 

“You expect more between us?” Emma asks, challenging him.

 

Robin chuckles. “You two were - _are_ awfully close to each other.”

 

She shrugs and glances at Killian. “We’ve been working together for two years.”

 

Robin still looks unconvinced. The damn smart man. “And?”

 

“Okay, look, perhaps we’re debating about getting together,” Killian mutters, breaking the entire little back and forth banter they’re having. “So yes, you two were quite correct when you thought it was the blonde woman I had mentioned before.”

 

Will does one of those “aha!” laughs and smacks Robin on the arm. “Give me my twenty now, Locksley.”

 

“You made a bet with him?” Killian asks, his eyebrows bunching together. “Snooping in my love life is one thing, mates, but actually betting on it is another.”

 

Robin crosses his arms with a smirk, glancing at Will who’s also smiling and then back at him and Emma. “Ah, but romance in the workplace is one thing too, isn’t it, lad?” he asks.

 

He groans. “Bugger off, Robin. It wasn’t like we had any potential awaiting work for us to do anyways,” Killian deadpans, leaning back on the couch. “Nor did we intend to do anything inappropriate, right, Swan?”

 

She smiles and nods. “Exactly.”

 

"Well, I suppose I’ll introduce you two then." Killian points at Robin. "Robin Locksley." And then he points at Will. "Will Scarlet."

 

And as if the gods be damned and are calling him, his phone goes off. It's a call from David, so he excuses himself from the three of them, going out back to the hallway to answer the phone. It's something about a suspicious old cottage that has been reported with unusual activity, but he's barely paying attention enough to soak in enough details. He requests for Killian's assistance, and then Killian asks if he should bring Emma or not. David says it won't be necessary. He's going to feel bad about leaving her with the two morons trying to divulge themselves in his life.

 

Saying goodbye, he returns his phone back into his jeans pocket and walks back into the room. They all seem to be having a relatively civil conversation, which is a good thing. It's just that Will can have a tendency of lashing out or being far too enthusiastic about something.

 

"Dave needs me," he says, grabbing his jacket. "Said something about a suspicious cottage at the edge of town, far behind the hills." He sighs. "Do you think you can handle these two for awhile, love?"

 

She stands up, brushing the crinkles off her shirt. "I'm like... the law. If they cause any trouble, or if they annoy me like how you do sometimes, I'm fairly certain I can handle them," she sasses back, smirking.

 

He chuckles. "Robin, Will, be nice to the fair lady otherwise she'll kick your sorry arse back to Boston." He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. "Goodbye," he murmurs. His eyes trail past Robin and Will, undeniably happy at how they both start to look convinced enough that Emma and him do have a thing. It's going to be a long week.

 

And he’s sure he catches a bit of blush crawling onto her cheek as he throws his head around to glance at her once more before he’s out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Footprints are still fresh, appears to be a size eight workboots, more than one suspect,” Killian says, standing up and brushing his knees off. “They didn’t particularly conceal themselves enough while doing whatever they were.”_

_“Stealing a couple of antique vases? He’s probably going to sell it for money,” David comments. “Well, that’s all we can really find out for today, I’ll go talk to the owner, you guys can go grab yourself a lunch,” he says, dismissing the both of them._

_“Jones,” Emma addresses, “you’re really good at this stuff.”_

_“How flattering of you to say, Swan.” He grins, keeping up with her pace. “No need to get close to me by compliments, love. I’m always open for you.” He winks, keeping his grin alive._

_“For one, I’m not your love,” she retorts in a bitter tone, “and two, I was just trying to be nice- however it’s always up to yourself to make it into some sort of innuendo.”_

_Angling his head to the side, he laughs. “Had I implied it that way? Apologies, m’lady, it was a mere joke, but thank you very much for your considerate compliment.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, provoking her some seamlessly, making her angry and frustrated. It’s a sight to behold really, and it’s enjoyable to him, making his day brighter. He’s doesn’t do it purposely of course- no, who is he kidding? Of course he tortures the lovely Swan purposely. It’s what he’s living for. “Now, are you driving, or am I?”_

_She grumbles something about, “I don’t care,” and gets in the passenger side, keeping her mouth shut for another while. During lunch, he sits across from her at the table, leaning back and watching Ruby and Granny deal with incoming customers._

_“I was only good with this case for one reason,” he begins, breaking the silence, “me and my brother, Liam, had a sailing company back in England. I was familiar with such attires, so depicting out the fact that they were workboots with a size like that was a coincidence that had coincided with my previous job.” He sighs, taking a drink. “Not that I’d expect you to care of course.”_

_“Why’d you leave England?” she blurts out, “If you don’t mind me asking.”_

_He gives her a sad smile. “A fresh start like the majority,” he answers, “and Liam has the business under control- I was only the CEO anyways. It was a difficult decision to make, but I had a desire to do more than just sailing- even if it was my one passion as a lad.”_

_It’s like she understands. “Any regrets?”_

_He takes a couple of moments to think back about it. Shaking his head, he provides his answer of, “No. Time to time there’s some reminiscing, but I’ve never considered anything I’ve done to be a regret. I’ve gleaned a lot through the years, I’ve no particular regrets about making my decision of leaving the one place I was familiar with, or diving into a new major.” He stretches his feet out under the table which he accidentally kicks hers. “Besides, here’s a little life lesson, Swan, you shouldn’t be dwelling on the idea of having regrets.”_

_“Well aren’t you inspirational expert of the year,” she jokes, finishing her onion rings. “How does your brother fare?”_

_“Good, I suppose.” He shrugs. “He has a lady friend to keep him company, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets married to her by the end of this year.”_

_“Are you going to attend a wedding when they do?”_

_“You are awfully ingested into my life story, Swan,” he claims, leaning forward on the table. “I’m not sure if he’ll even hold anything massive.”_

_“Why not?”_

_Moment of truth, perhaps? Whatever it is, he doesn’t mind. It’s been years, he’s long over this idea, it’s a fact anyways, might as well admit it. “We... are orphans, technically speaking. Not a lot of friends… no family around.”_

_The edge of her lips turn into a frown, as if she wishes she had taken back that question. “Oh.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You look like a loner, Jones.”

 

He glances up from the table to look at Emma who slides into the booth beside him. “Well, Dave needed time to himself at the cottage he had been skeptical about, so I decided to take a break here.” He yawns. Getting up almost an hour earlier just to discuss a launched plan on fake dating has really brought him a notch down in terms of getting sleep. “The question is… shouldn’t you be at the station dealing with your paperwork?”

 

“Your friends, well, _Will_ , was a pain in the ass,” she mutters, her eyes gravitating over her shoulder. “And they’re here, and they expect us to be…” She sighs. “Affectionate,” she mumbles.

 

“Ah,” he breathes out, leaning back, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “I probably should have also notified Dave of our little dalliance,” he says, “I suppose that’ll come later.”

 

“That too,” she agrees.

 

He smiles. “I think we’ll be fooling just about everyone in town,” he whispers, “that isn’t a problem, is it, Swan? You’ve always been pushing me away because _personal space_ is highly enforced on that list of things you need.”

 

“I think I’ll make an exception for now,” she responds, leaning her head on his shoulder. “There’s one flaw to this entire plan,” she says quietly, being mindful of the two morons sitting a couple of booths away from them. “We can’t walk around holding hands and giving kisses on the cheek to suffice enough for it to be believable,” she starts, “and I didn’t even want to mention this, but I some point, I have a feeling they’re going to expect us to actually kiss.” She practically shudders. “God, I can’t even stomach that idea.”

 

It’s a chuckle and then a shake of his head. “I’ll have you know now I’m an exceptionally good kisser,” he brags. “But since you’re not absolutely positive on wanting that, you’ll just have to remain curious about it until the day I _do_ kiss you.”

 

At the sound of another jingle, the both of them turn their heads and it’s David rushing in. However, he abruptly stops at the scene in front of him, which means Killian’s arm around Emma. However, even with that, knowing David can punch him in the jaw right there in Granny’s he nods and smiles at him anyways, tilting his head to motion David over to sit in front of them. But, this goes without to say Killian also takes in Robin and Will’s faces which are watching them intently. Neither of them are really subtle, so Killian winks at the two of them before turning his head back.

 

“We’ll explain later,” Emma mumbles, looking at David.

 

The entire time they’re casually talking, it’s mostly laughter and smiling, but after having Emma next to him, so _fucking_ close to her, sitting there like everything’s normal as if they’re not even playing pretend, his emotions start fluctuating to an unbelievable level. He’s trying to focus on whatever discussion they’re having, but it’s sort of hard once he realizes how easy everything is becoming to him.

 

He finds himself barely contributing to the conversation, at least not until she snaps out of it because of Emma shaking smacking his thigh under the table. Both his eyebrows raise as he glances over at her, and she has one of those looks that’s telling him to pay attention because something going to happen.

 

“Hey, Dave, do me a favour and keep an eye on the two scoundrels of my friends back there,” Killian requests. “I’ll make it up to you some day, perhaps a couple of drinks, yeah?”

 

“Alright,” David responds, though he’s very suspicious about the entire thing.

 

Killian nods in appreciation, turning his head back to Emma. “Let’s go, love. I think it’s about time we get away from those two.”

 

She slides out of the booth first and then he follow behind her, keeping his hand on the small of her back the entire time. When the both of them are out of there, he finally sighs of relief. He doesn’t know how long he could’ve gone knowing those two asses are just following them around while they have the chance. It’s 4 in the afternoon, and neither of them have anything to do, so they go back to the station anyways just to relieve themselves from the remainder of the day.

 

He really doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore, either they’re really good at acting and covering this up, or the both of them aren’t doing either.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there is going to be a server transfer later on today, I decided to post this chapter up early. If you guys don't know, you can find me on tumblr thejollypirate.tumblr.com.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter because I didn't want to drag this *wink wink* date *wink wink* out longer than it needed to be. Haha. Enjoy! (Comments are always appreciated after! They always brighten up my day.)

_Emma: When are you picking me up?_

_Killian: Are you that eager to see me, love?_

_Emma: Answer the question please._

_Killian: Going feisty again, you always intrigue me, Swan. Anyways, I’ll be there at around six-thirty. Does that sound good?_

 

_Emma: Sounds fine. I’ll see you then._

_Killian: Have a good afternoon, darling. Oh, and dress well but comfortable. ;)_

 

After an hour of an attempt at explaining to David what exactly they’re doing, he’s finally understood, and that understanding meant him giving the both of them a day off just to prepare for a date. Except, after last night, he’s already gone and prepared himself, and he intends to take her out on a little sailing trip. Little it may be, but it sure will be a good night. They say the winds will be in their favour, and even if not, they’re not going out far from port. That’s technically not what he has planned.

 

So, granted that he has two hours to do some final preparations, he grabs his jacket which slips over his dress shirt, puts on a watch, and opts for a pair of shoes which are going to do him better while steering a ship.

 

Damn, he’s so proud of himself with this entire date planning thing. He hasn’t planned a date in _five_ straight years, so he’s allowed to gloat about it for awhile, right? Right. So, he heads down to the restaurant to check up with his little special offer. It’s a good thing he’s gotten an excuse to make some food transportable to the ship so he doesn’t have to go with ordering pizza or buying to-go at Granny’s. None of that would be appealing, especially on a first date, even if most of this is just a plan to make it seem like they’re real. It’s not really _real_ , isn’t it?

 

The restaurant manager greets him with a nod and smile before he speeds off to check up on his orders. They help load the food it into his black cadillac - he has plenty of spare money after retiring from the boating business back in England. He knows this is just a play, but for some reason it doesn’t stop him from going all-out on the entire idea. Every time he catches a her with a small smile toward him, jolly laughter, frustration released because of his insinuations, he can’t help but wonder why he’s never actually asked her before.

 

The same words still ring in his mind from David the night of the dinner they had all been at.

 

_“Emma hasn’t dated anyone since she was nineteen. She’s been through a lot as a kid.”_

 

Bloody hell, how bad is her past if she hasn’t dated for like seven years or so? It must have been horrendous, and Killian doesn’t want to pry because although he’s opened up a bit about his past back in England with the entire ‘boating company’ and ‘Liam and his wife, Elsa’ thing, he’s not really discussed his past relationship with Milah. It’s never crossed his mind that he’ll ever need to have a conversation about her again, but holding it in has always been a burden on his shoulders, another pain to remember which he wishes he can throw out the window and just forget, but it just doesn’t work like that.

 

By the time he’s done trying to analyze the woman he’s about to pick up, he deals with some final touches just to top it off. It’s 6:21 on his watch, and just to double check, he goes to look at his phone too. Shortly after, he’s standing in front of Emma’s apartment door, knocking on it nervously. As much as this is just practice, it feels far too real to be fake. He is barely prepared mentally to see her.

 

The door swings open with a stunning Emma Swan in a sleek, minimalistic black dress. “Swan, you look… bloody amazing,” he breathes out, his lips curling into a smile. “Really.”

 

“And you look-”

 

He interrupts her in a nonchalant tone, “I know.” He extends his hands out, and when she takes it, he presses a kiss to the backside. “Shall we get going?”

 

“Let’s,” she says under her breath, smiling a bit sheepishly.

 

Guiding her outside, they both get into the car, which still somewhat smells like a bit of food, not that she seems to care or notice. He drives closeby and parks the car, and he can feel Emma watching him the entire time. “Swan, if you’ve got something on your mind, it’s best to say it.”

 

“It’s nothing, actually. Just didn’t expect you to do this much planning.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the door up. A wave of cool air flood into the vehicle,

 

He gets out of the car, following behind her. “First time for everything, darling.”

 

“I suppose. Now, I want to see what you’ve got planned for the rest of the evening,” she says.

 

Offering an arm, she slips hers in with his and laughs at his gentleman-like gesture. They make small talk as they walk toward the docks. The entire time, he notices the curiosity in her voice when she inquires about what exactly they’re doing. He’s positive she’s expected a dinner at some fancy little restaurant somewhere along the Storybrooke lines, but that isn’t what he has in store for the rest of the night. Grinning, he stops in front of the little boat, and she glares at him.

 

“I’m not attempting to _woo_ you, but we are going for a little sailing trip tonight. I hope you’ve brought your sea legs, love,” he mumbles, his lips brushing against her ear. “And no worries, I have quite a wonderful meal prepared by the assistance of a couple of accomplices,” he adds, taking a step forward. He boards the gangplank, holding Emma’s hand the entire time to make sure she doesn’t lose her balance.

 

“I’ve never actually been on a ship, let alone a boat,” she tells him, letting out a shaky breath. “But not a bad first impression, Jones.” She leans against the edge, looking down at the waters.

 

“Hold onto the edge, love. We’re going to head it out a bit from port.”

 

She nods as does what he says, while he goes to the helm and starts spin the wheel. Flowing along the waves has always been natural for him, it’s in his blood. You can take a sailor away from sea, but you can never take the sea away from the sailor. The fresh air fills his lungs, the smell of salt and just the sea, something he hasn’t done for awhile now. He debates on where to stop, but when they’re a good bit away from the town, having a clear view of the skies and the horizon in the distance where the sun’s setting, he stops and anchors the ships in place temporarily so they can get to the dinner part.

 

He has everything set up well, and thought the rocking of the ship is not the usual to be used to when eating, the both of them are able to burden it and bear it. It’s not that difficult anyways. Needless to say, while they eat the delicious food, they talk about nothing in particular. She asks more about his old endeavor and passion with sailing and the open seas, and then he asks whether she’s enjoying her time or not. He wasn’t so sure about the entire thing in the first place, but given such wonderful weather, and not going for the cliché dinner at a fancy looking restaurant, it was the only thing that came into mind immediately as he was brainstorming.

 

When he unintentionally mentions something about family, she tenses up, and he definitely notices the way she shifts in her posture as she’s finishing up her food. Understanding the situation clearly, he avoids the topic, driving it into a different topic just enough to make her relax and seem comfortable again. As much as she usually despises him and his ridiculous jokes, she seems open-ended this time, _carefree_ even, and the usual Emma Swan never shows to be carefree whatsoever. It’s always being busy with the thought of work, or finding something else to do to keep herself preoccupied. He’s seeing another side of her, and this is a good thing. She’s somewhat opening up to him in a different way, just like the night she had thanked him for the way he’s promised to look out for her.

 

While he cleans up the dinner mess - not really a mess - his mind is like a machine, oiling and greasing up, constantly thinking about what must bother her. What _family_ is to her, and he knows better than to be getting his nose up in someone else’s history like that, but he can’t help but feel that bit of curiosity and wonder that slips through anyways. She’s already promised to tell her when she was to start feeling comfortable about discussing it, so it’s better for him to stay away from the topic of the matter for now.

 

He walks back out onto the main deck, and even from a distance, he notices the way she shivers slightly from the winds of the sea. It’s not even a decision to be made, because he’s already draping his jacket over her shoulders with a small smile on his face, assuring her he’s still here and enjoying his time with her. Surprisingly, he’s having far more fun he’s had in ages. This is different, a step out of his usual zone, and perhaps he can get used to it.

 

But, then comes the thing - the thing which matters most. She’s only helping him, she’s not his girlfriend. Friend? Yes. A girl? Yes. But not that sort of label. This is practice. Getting to know each other, getting fond of the gestures and affectionate touches, the way they speak towards each other.

 

And god does he wish this is real. That this is his life, that he can just do whatever he pleases with her one night. No, that’s not how it is though. Emma Swan is his friend a good friend, and he’ll be damned if he was to screw anything up.

 

“The stars are quite visible at this time of night, especially since we’ve made distance from town,” he says quite softly, tilting his head back to look up at the darkened skies. The darkness is lit by the illuminating stars, and the quarter of a moon in the distance. “Know any of your constellations, Swan?”

 

“No, and let me guess, you do?”

 

“Aye - well, a couple.”

 

And so there commences the entire conversation about stars and constellations, explaining well known ones like Polaris, and then the ones that range to Aquila. However, he leaves Cygnus for last, making her understand that it translates to “swan” in latin, addressing all the little bits of history and past from Greek mythology.

 

Unfortunately, the _date_ comes to an end and he starts guiding the boat back to the docks of Storybrooke. His eyes still find it’s way to Emma though, her elbows resting on the edge as she stares out into no where. Whatever she’s thinking about, it seems rather serious if it’s making her zone out completely. When they’re back to land, he talks his steps down the small bit of stairs, assisting Emma off.

 

Gods, at that moment he does want to kiss her. Just, he really wants to, it’s an urge, like it’s calling for him. But he doesn’t. That’s not right to do. Not unless she’s the one who actually wants it.

 

Although he still needs to clean the borrowed boat back, he figures it’s best to leave it until later. He’d rather drop her off at her apartment and bid her goodnight before returning back and dealing with cleaning duties. So, that’s exactly what he does. “I’ll clean later, I’d rather escort you home safely,” he tells her, grinning like a complete fool as he does so. And he also ends up finding himself and her standing outside her apartment door, instead of only dropping her off at the entrance.

 

“I had a good time… surprisingly. I told you this once, but, you’re wasting your good looks, and outrageously amazing date planning skills,” she compliments, a shy little smile on her face. “I’ve got no doubt any lady would want to steal your heart.”

 

“Perhaps another woman has already stolen it,” he mumbles to himself, cocking a brow up. “I had a good time tonight too, Emma. Was a pleasant honour to spend my evening with you.” It’s a rather honest statement, it’s been the _greatest_ night he’s had in ages, he can’t deny that deep down.

 

“Well, I guess this is it. Thanks for the… date? I don’t know, I’ll just call it a date.”

 

He laughs lightly at her stumble on words. “I’d lend you my extensive knowledge of vocabulary, but I don’t think there’d be any other term to define what we had done tonight.” _Gods, the things I’d do to kiss her right now_ , he thinks. He leans forward, cupping her cheeks and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, love.”

 

Emma smiles and nods. “‘Night, Jones. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

 

And she’s gone.

 

Back into the safety of her own apartment, where he’d love to burst into. And damn, if they weren’t faking this, if _he_ was actually dating her, he’d damn well kiss her senseless. She’s mentioned it already about how they’ll eventually want to see an actual kiss, but neither of them brought it up tonight, so he ignores the gut feeling inside of him telling him opposites and leaves the building. Taking five steps out, he turns his head and glances up. He shakes his head and gets back into his car.

 

That’s when he realizes he’s left his jacket with her. No big deal though, he’ll get it next time. Or at work. Definitely at work, there won’t be a next time. Not to his knowledge.

 

While he cleans up what’s left on the ship, he keeps seeing vivid images of Emma on deck with her hair swaying gently to the wind, being completely immersed in the idea of being on sea. Perhaps there’s a little bit of a sailor in her too. Much like him of course, except far more minimal compared to how much he enjoys being out on open waters.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he reaches back into his jeans to look at the message he’s gotten.

 

_Emma: Sorry about your jacket. I forgot._

 

He huffs out a breath and smiles to himself.

 

_Killian: Quite alright, Swan. To be honest, I forgot as well. All’s well though, just bring it to work tomorrow. Not like it’s mandatory for me to wear all the time._

_Emma: I dunno, Killian. Looks rather good on me._

 

_Killian: Have you been checking yourself in the mirror with my clothes?_

_Emma: More like the first thing I did was go to the washroom and then suddenly realize I had been wearing Killian Jones’ jacket._

_Killian: No rush in returning it then._

_Emma: I’m not your mother keeping track of your lost jackets - let alone your coat rack._

 

Laughing out loud to himself, he conjures up a response.

 

_Killian: Unfortunate. Well, as much as I’d like to continue dallying with exchanging messages with you, I must finish cleaning the boat before I head back to get my rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?_

_Emma: Ah, sorry for interrupting you. Well, g’night._

_Killian: Sweet dreams, Emma. :)_

He yawns and stuffs his phone away before he carries a bit of garbage off the boat, dumping it into the trash.

 

On the ride back home, his eyes feel a little bit heavy, and the moment he steps through his apartment door, slamming it shut behind him, he finds his way down his hallway, switching out of his clothes quickly, brushing his teeth, and dropping onto his bed - ah, the comfort. But, one thing circles around in his mind, though unspoken between him and his emotions; just what the _fuck_ has he gotten himself into?

 

Running his hands over his face, he sighs, shaking his head. Now that is a question for another time, and right now, it’s time to sleep, because he has some odd feeling something’s going to happen tomorrow, and he’ll be barely prepared to know what it is.

 

Everything is fine for a majority of the night - or morning, however you see it - but, then he starts getting these dreams… and they’re never quite right. He can never pin down what they are, or who’s in them, but they’re there and it’s distracting him. He thrashes around in bed, trying to settle down for some more rest, but the blinking red numbers from 4:21 soon turn to 5:43 and so he gives up on the remainder of rest he can get, and gives himself a head start to the day. It’s nothing coffee can’t substitute in to make him feel a bit more awake -  it can accomplish just about all he needs.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

He rubs the back of his neck as he cleans up some old cases that need to be marked solved, organizing sheets and folders everywhere, putting them in their necessary and correct places. He sighs and places the last folder he needs for the day in it’s spot in the drawer. It’s 2:26, he’s sleepy still, but someone decides to pay him a nice visit to wake him up.

 

“And here’s your jacket,” she says, throwing it at his face.

 

He groans and rips it off from his head, setting it on the back of his chair. “Thank you for doing that, Swan. Woke me up quite nicely.”

 

“Did you not get any sleep?” she asks, plopping down in her chair.

 

“Not enough sleep to be precise,” he answers, rubbing his eyes. “Between plotting the date, captaining a boat, pleasing the lady, and cleaning up afterwards, I hadn’t got the biggest clue of why I couldn’t get much sleep,” he explains to her sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his own remarks. “Coffee had not helped like the usual today. I need something far more entertaining than paperwork and organizing to keep myself up, love. Is there anything else I can do for the day?”

 

“Yeah, go home and _sleep_ your ass off.”

 

“Are you telling me to take the remainder of the day off?”

 

She raises her gaze up to look at him. “Can it be me returning a favour for the outing last night?”

 

He gets the brightest idea just to annoy her a bit. “Then I’m positive I can arrange a few more evenings out if it gives me days off to go sleep.”

 

“Shut up. Go home. Get rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever else we’re gonna see each other,” she demands quite seriously. “This is an order from your _boss_.”

 

“Well, roger that then,” he mumbles, grabbing the jacket off his chair and speeding out of the station before he can even consider turning back.

 

The jacket still smells like Emma Swan, a faint bit of some lavender from shampoo, and a bit of a faint odour from her perfume. It’s a perfect touch, but not his taste to keep on, so he opts to wash it later on during the week. What he does need is that sleep. What he doesn’t need is Robin and Will walking through the apartment doors of his, questioning him more about his personal love life again. But since it’s become much of the usual, mundane and regular as a schedule, he notices the two of them stroll right past him as he parks his car and gets out.

 

The practically jump him in a way, making Killian stumble back a few steps before regaining his balance and throwing them both an unamused look before entering his apartment. There’s no point in pushing them away if they’re going to come back anyways, so he _gladly_ welcomes the two of them into his apartment this time around. He still has a lot of the day to himself, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get any sleep because of these two trying to ruin his entire sleeping schedule again.

 

Seizing the moment of silence while he sticks the key into his door and turns it, he sighs of contentment and frustration - somehow a mixture of both - while he dumps his keys on the hanger, and then kicking his shoes off and placing them neatly to the side of the entrance.

 

“We heard you had a date last night,” Robin states bluntly, following the open path into the living room.

 

Killian rolls his eyes at how straightforward they always are. “Aye, what of it?”

 

“How’d it go?”

 

“Absolutely swell,” he answers, “she had a marvelous time.”

 

Robin narrows his eyes. “Nothing else?”

 

“Is there always supposed to be something more to the two of you? We’re taking it slow; casual if you will,” he spits back, a little bit bitter. A shrill shudder goes through him as he remembers how close he was to kissing her lips at her own doorstep. “Look, mates, do I really need to discuss everything we do together? Now that would be bad form - releasing details of private matters without the consent of the woman herself. You should know that, Locksley.”

 

“I know, I know. But Will and I are just really curious and happy for you. Besides, I’ve sort of found a liking in this town,” Robin says, “and the mayor.”

 

“You like the bloody town mayor? She’s like an evil queen; bitter and rude a lot of times I’ve been around her,” Killian exclaims, furrowing his brows. “I’m not going to question what you find attractive in her, for I don’t like judging a book by it’s cover, but just be careful around her, mate. Plus, you said you were only staying here for what - one, two weeks? Don’t get yourself into any trouble.”

 

“Well, we might consider moving here sometime. Doesn’t Whale work at the hospital?”

 

He nods. “Aye.”

 

Will buds in with a mischievous smirk. “Even better, then it’ll be like college times, Jones!”

 

“I’m authority around here, there's a major difference, Scarlet."

 

"Doesn't mean we can't have a couple of good 'ol pints when you're off work, eh?"

 

"He's right. Besides, it'll be better this way - no longer having to drive all the way from Boston to visit," Robin explains, "a tempting decision, is it not?"

 

Killian shrugs, pouring himself a glass of water. "None of my business," he plainly states. "But I need sleep so if you two could go find somewhere else to go, that would be rather pleasing." He downs the glass is one go, the liquid refreshing. "If you really do consider moving here, voyage around the town. There are some places you can explore without getting arrested of course - or have Emma show you around, I'm sure she wouldn't mind dealing with you two gits."

 

"You know, she's quite friendly when you're around, but suddenly hates us when you're no longer present," Robin tells him his observation. "Why do you think she's like that?"

 

"Mate, trust me, she does that to me more so even without you two around. She might like me, but she had to deal with me for a year before she started warming up - it takes time to gain her trust and kindness," he vaguely responds. _Best not to mention anything private_. "Now out you two go, otherwise I'm taking you down to the station and handcuffing the both of you two the cells for the rest of the day. Best I don’t resort to such measures, aye?”

 

“Alright, alright, we get ya mate. But I think we both wanna stay for another week and then we’ll decide if we stayin’ or not,” Will intrudes, taking a drink out of his flask. “Must say I’ve taken quite a liking to this quiet little town - I know why ya chose this place now and why you’d prefer staying.” And as if on cue, Will slings his shoulder around Robin and starts leading him out. “Oh, Locksley, I caught sight of a bar nearby, let’s go see what they serve! And have fun with ya lady, Jones - you look good with her.”

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Scarlet. Hope you enjoy your stay in Storybrooke, mates.” He’s about to close the door behind them, but stops and peeks his head out the door. “Oh, and Locksley?”

 

“What?”

 

“Good luck with Mayor Mills.” He send him a wink and shuts the door, locking it behind him. _Bloody hell, finally free of their wrath for the rest of the day_ , he reckons, sauntering down the hallway and into his bedroom. It’s a mere second before he collapses lazily onto the bed.

 

And hell, sleep does not come to him. He stares at the ceiling which starts to grow dark soon, hoping to find an answer - waiting for fatigue to take over him - however, nothing really does come. Grumpily, he rolls onto his side to check the time. 6:53 blinks at him. It’s almost been five hours since he’s returned from a dismissed day at work, and it doesn’t make him feel any better when he gets excused to go sleep, yet can’t sleep anyways. Pointless - so bloody pointless.

 

When the doorbell rings, he thinks of the possible people that can be visiting him. Dave? Unlikely. Will and Robin? Very likely. Emma? Possibly. David would call him if he was to be dropping by, Will and Robin are the only ones who make unexpected visits, and Emma wouldn’t be coming to him - unless there’s some emergency that can’t be dealt with over a text or phone call - so, really, he’s unsure about it all, perhaps it’s just a mistake. However, groaning while he gets out of bed - his hair is a probable mess by now - he unlocks the door and opens it up to see Emma holding a paper bag.

 

Taken away - she never visits him - he invites her inside, running a hand through his hair as she watches him plop down on his couch.

 

“To what do I owe the pleasure on such an evening, Swan?”

 

“Well, for one, it seems like you didn’t exactly sleep did you?”

 

He quirks an eyebrow at her, going around the couch and sitting next to her. “And how would you know that?”

 

She scoffs, waving her hand around, gesturing about his hair. “Your hair is a dead giveaway, Jones.” She hands him the paper bag, and he takes it. “You usually pay for the food, so this is me paying you for all the wonderful services you’ve done.”

 

“Why, how considerate of you, Swan, thank you.”

 

“By the way, your friends came over and asked me for a better tour around town… Did you do that?”

 

“Of course, love. Who else had been accompanied the first time around town by a Sheriff and actually _enjoyed_ her company while making her want to pull her own hair out simultaneously?” He grins like the smug bastard - charming - he always knows he is, winks, and takes the food out of the bag - grilled cheese of course, mindful to not drop crumbs anywhere. “At least that’s how I think you worded it. You also told me - oh - that it was the _last_ time you were ever going to show me anywhere alone. How well did that work out?”

 

“Oh god, shut the hell up,” she mutters whacking him upside the head with a pillow. “Very professional of you, Jones. Your friends are nice, but Will, I think we’re gonna end up having to cuff him to a prison cell one day, at least with the way his attitude is,” she declares, and it’s a probably 100% true prediction. Will _will_ end up in a cell one day - no pun intended of course. “Robin is more civil, I prefer him over Will - besides the fact Robin is quite observant and vigilant, it can be overwhelming sometimes.”

 

Flinching at getting hit, he makes sure she hits the back of his head. “Robin was always talented with having thief-like traits,” he says before eating his sandwich. He gets up to go grab himself a napkin and sits back down next to her. “In some other business, they had decided to pay me a visit when I came back. Said something about you hating them whenever I’m not around? I find that quite fascinating, Swan; please explain yourself.”

 

“Maybe I was a bit harsh on them,” she quietly mumbles, rubbing her face, “only because they were annoying me at the time. But I think that opinion of theirs has changed after the tour I gave them.”

 

Smirking, he innocently eats his sandwich, although he know how much he’s already annoying her. “Darling, it certainly _changed_ my outlook on you afterwards.”

 

“I will punch you,” she bluntly states.

 

“You wouldn’t dare, Swan.”

 

“I totally would dare.”

 

“I’d like to see you make a valiant effort, _Emma_.”

 

She’s fuming by now. “I hate you.”

 

“No. No, you do not,” he retaliates defiantly, putting the unfinished sandwich back into the bag. “You know I fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me - or insulting me.”

 

She sneers, shaking her head. “Interesting. That doesn’t change the fact about how much I really do hate you though.”

 

“If you hated me, would you be my fake companion at the moment?” He pushes away a strand of lonely hair from her face. “I hardly believe so, Swan,” he taunts, his eyebrows shooting up at her. “If you hated me, would you be sitting here complaining about how much you hate me, threatening to punch me?”

 

“Damn, you’re good at this game of banter,” she concedes defeat, sighing.

 

“Ah, of course my dear Swan, I’ve always been good at a good old vocal battle like this,” he gloats unintentionally, letting his head hit the back of the couch. He doesn’t really care about the fact he just claimed her his Swan, but that point has been indefinitely implied already. “Your visit has already shaken me up quite a bit. You should come by more often during your own leisure time, love - we can then engage in some more _entertaining_ acti-”

 

She slaps his arm with quite a lot of brute force (that’s not a surprise, she’s as tough as an unbreakable nail), making him stop before he can finish his sentence. “I’m going to break up with you before we even get together in this fake relationship,” she grits out.

 

Rubbing his arm, he continues to tease her, just enough to make her lose her temper most likely. That’s the best, seeing the tension rise in her shoulders, the way her lips twitch - oh! - or even the way she shoots him a sharp glare with an impending death wish bestowed upon him. “ _Please_ , you are already branded as my woman. _Everyone_ knows that by now, whether or not we have labeled it official and announced it to the world or not,” he continues, his tongue grazing his bottom lip. “Oh, and you must continue to act for the remainder of the week… perhaps even longer.”

 

“Wait, what? _Longer_?”

 

“The two pricks have decided they might move here - not that I’m complaining - should they make their decision by the end of the week.”

 

“Dealing with you every day at work is one thing…” she trails off, rolling her eyes. “But being your supposed girlfriend is a completely different matter. And dealing with two new guys in town, wow, great!” she exclaims sarcastically.

 

“Sarcastic approach,” he mumbles, “I like it.”

 

“You like a lot of things.”

 

“Aye, that I do - specifically you.”

 

“Are you flirting with me?”

 

“Trust me, love, if I was - or am - flirting with you,” he cocks his head to the side, “you’d know it then.”

 

She brings her hand up and rubs her face, shaking her head. “Throw me into a river and let me drown, I’m starting to doubt my tolerance for you,” she gripes.

 

Leaning into her side, he whispers a rather frustrating comeback, “All the more reason for me to save you. If you know what I mean.”

 

“I-”

 

_Knock._

 

“Bloody hell, if it’s those two again…”

 

“Should I hide?”

 

“No. You’re my significant other, Swan, that would be rather bad form, hiding from visitors like that.”

 

“Isn’t this entire plan considered _bad form_?” she challenges.

 

He doesn’t bother responding to that as he goes to open the door. Grasping the metal knob and turning it, pulling it open, reveals the two usual suspects of every possible life crime in his… life. He notices both of their eyes widen, probably at the fact that Emma is sitting there not far behind. He rolls his eyes and sighs. “And you two have returned because?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his ankles and folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Well, we were considering a night out to The Rabbit Hole nearby,” Robin suggests, shrugging his shoulders. “Unless… she’s keeping you busy?”

 

“Hah, busy,” Will repeats in a teasing tone, dragging the word out.

 

“No, we were only having a talk,” he says, “and I don’t know about that, mate.”

 

Robin shakes his head of disapproval. “Come on. Perhaps Miss Swan can join us if she’s not on duty tonight?”

 

“I actually don’t think that’d be that much of a bad idea, Killian,” she agrees, walking up behind him. “I think David would be fine with it considering the amount of hard work you put into your workload everyday. Plus, I sort of need to let loose a bit too - us law enforcers still need to… party sometimes.”

 

“I never took you for a partying type, love.”

 

“You’re right,” she drawls, “but still. Let’s go, _please_? I sort of need to make it up to them for being a bit rude earlier anyways.” She nudges his shoulder.

 

“You know I can’t say no to you, darling.” He sighs, letting himself relax to her convincing skills - _this woman is going to be the death of me with her superb acting,_ he reckons. “If you’d excuse me, I need to go retrieve my jacket.”

 

They take the longer route, opting to walk down the streets as the sun is setting down on them, where the ink night skies start to take over the atmosphere about them. Her arm is linked with his, and they’re all surprisingly having a fun time only getting to The Rabbit Hole. Laughter, bright smiles, ridiculous remarks made by all parties. It’s actually not too bad, and being able to sink into this bit of a routine again with his friends is actually refreshing. It’s been ages since he’s let loose to this extent, let alone go to a bar - his stash of rum in the cupboards at home usually remains enough for whenever he needs to drink.

 

All of them find a booth for, which is also near the dartboard. They all order their drinks - he may not be thinking of any repercussions and that’s a bad thing because _drinking_ leads to _something_ eventually - and then Killian and Robin engage in a rather friendly, yet competitive game of darts. It’s fascinating because the neither of them like losing - college memories, funny - and when they do, they usually take an entire shot of whatever they prefer. Has to be strong though, and that’s where neither of them care. They both have a decently high tolerance for alcohol anyways.

 

Soon enough, he’s sitting back watching Emma completely obliterate Will at a game of darts, and the question of _how_ pops up into his mind. He leans forward, his elbows sitting on the wooden table, as he quietly observes the way she plays. _Good form, but not good enough_ , he notes to himself, his eyes tracking all of her small movements with the object in her hands.

 

The questioning soon takes place later, and she briefly mentions the previous Sheriff, Graham - never heard of him before - who had died due to a heart attack. _Milah_ , he remembers, the sudden memory bringing more pain than it should. But, having the heart-to-heart over a couple of drinks with Emma makes him forget about Milah, and only pay attention to _her_ , just as he pushes out the constant bugging and yelling of Robin accusing Will of cheating over a game of cards. The amount of times his eyes constantly start drifting to Emma who’s sitting next to her - _really_ closely - he feels his heart skip a beat, some odd feeling churning inside his stomach, playing some sort of game with him.

 

When her hand falls on his thigh, stroking with her thumb, he nearly lets out a large shaky breath which would cause the other two morons to cast their gazes up to them. He hums to himself, making sure he’ll make it through the night without having too many impure thoughts at the moment. Smiling, he snakes his arm around her waist and tugs her even _closer_ if that’s even possible, and presses a kiss to her temple, his fingers nearly flexing and escaping under the red leather jacket she’s wearing.

 

 _Focus mate, don’t do something stupid_ , he reminds himself. When the barmaid returns with another refill of their drinks, he’s tempted to push it away and say no because he can’t get sloshed - not with Emma. Robin digs out a pair of dice, another distant memory from the times back in college. “You never win these, Will,” he taunts, taking the dice and beating him a third time. Emma is shaking her head and laughing at how horrid Will is at games, but how well he holds up when it comes to his drinking abilities. Never ceasing to amaze any of them, really.

 

For the second time - no, like tenth - Emma’s fingers trail up and down his leg, and it starts to become a massive distraction. It seems like she’s doing so without herself even noticing, which is weird - _acting maybe_. He politely excuses himself to go to the washroom, kissing Emma on the cheek and nodding at the two men in front of him before he rushes off to the back. His heart is racing, and everything down _there_ in his pants feel tighter than normal. Splashing his face with a bit of cold water, he takes a couple of paper towels and wipes his face, dumping it in the garbage. Exhaling a large breath, he heads back out, but Emma is leaning against the wall near the washrooms, tapping away her foot.

 

His breaths become ragged and short intakes as he finds himself in a bit of trouble. _Bloody hell_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No discussions about last nights episode. It's been hours and I still can't get over what I watched. Please drown me because it exceeded my expectations by so much.


	6. Chapter 6

“Swan, what’re you doing back here?” he manages to say, keeping his feet planted just as they are in his current position.

 

She shrugs. “I dunno, you tell me,” she mumbles, approaching him.

 

 _Damn it, she’s drunk_ , he realizes, watching her every move. He shifts on his feet, feeling that jitter inside of him return, haunting him endlessly, the voices in his head are loud and wild, but unspoken. She’s doing nothing but taking steps forward toward him and he’s starting to lose his patience and his own wits, he’s starting to lose his own conscious mind.

 

But his own body acts on its own accord, and he doesn’t push her away when her lips crash onto his. “Bloody hell, woman,” he grunts, pushing her up against the wall. Well, there goes any public decency, but no one bothers using the washroom at a bar like this, so he’s quite safe that last time he’s checked. Finding himself in such an intriguing scenario, her lips taste like tequila, but _god_ , she also tastes like something else, _Emma Swan_. The way they move in sync, the way her hand falls to the back of his neck, playing with his hair, the way his hands wrap around and under her leather jacket, the feeling of her cotton shirt gentle on his skin, the way she softly moans against his lips - bloody _fucking_ hell indeed.

 

It’s a clash of dominance, seeing who can take control over this searing kiss first. Neither of them give up, his lips moving against hers quite fiercely, the way she she returns the favour. It’s a silent plea from her, she wants and clearly desires for him, but this is wrong. So wrong. What is he doing? He’s taking advantage of an intoxicated woman, and this is the epitome of bad form, this is not Killian Jones. Hell, he may be drunk off his own arse, but this is still _horribly_ wrong. But he can’t find it in himself to stop. She’s like some sort of drug, he is desperately hanging on the edge of a cliff trying to decide whether to let go and let it happen, or climb back up and make the right choice.

 

This woman knows how to kiss, it’s literally paling to the way he used to think she would kiss - his imagination is just not vivid enough anymore. He pulls back quite forcefully, catching his breath. “ _No_ ,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “This is wrong, Emma.”

 

“But, _why_?”

 

Even with the way her breath is hot across his face, he shakes his head, denying everything. “Emma, _no_.”

 

“I thought you wanted me.” Her voice falls in a way that _hurts_.

 

“Not like this, love. Never shall I take advantage of someone like this,” he whispers. It’s like a promise, some hidden words and messages behind there. _I do want you_ , it declares. _You’re a marvel_ , he thinks. _I am not going to mistreat or hurt you like this. The aftermath is too bitter for my liking_ , he believes. “I’m taking you home, Swan. You clearly need some rest - you’re not going to remember any of this most likely by the time you wake up from a slumber.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Despite how hungry he is to want to have her, he’s half-aware of what’s going on, only knowing what his body demands for, not the heart. He takes Emma by the hand and drags her back out to the bar. Will and Robin are no where to be seen, so he pays for his and Emma’s tab, and leaves. Supporting her walking isn’t too difficult, she can still manage. What is difficult is having her practically leaning against him the entire time in the elevator, and when the door opens with that ding noise, he groans and picks her up - fucking _bridal style_ \- and follows the remaining instructions of where she lives. By the time - which is like three minutes of rummaging through her stubbornness to find her keys - he’s inside of her apartment, he stumbles through her hallway and into the rooms until he discovers which one in his bedroom.

 

Now, she’s growing arrogant and annoying (she can never really fully annoy him), but she seems to be innocent and adorable at the same time while he - _fuck me_ \- shoves the door open with his shoulder. It’s a cleanly matted queen size bed. Carefully setting her down, she groans and turns into the comfort of her bed. He quietly laughs at the way she responds to alcohol taking over her body. “Sweet dreams, love,” he mumbles, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

It’s an initial reaction to just leave and go back to his apartment, but his guts tell him to stay and make sure she’ll be okay in the morning. He finds an abandoned piece of paper, grabs the first pen he sees, and writes a note.

 

_Good morning, Swan,_

_You had a rather intense night, so I brought you back. In a turn of events, I thought it’d be best if I stay the night to make sure you’d be alright in the morning. Beside the note is some water to hydrate yourself - best to flush out all that liquor you’ve consumed. I’ll be on your couch, so don’t assume me for some robber who decided to crash in your living room and end up pulling your gun out on me._

_Yours Truly,_

_Killian_

 

He finds a glass and fills it with water, reenters her room to find a rather soundly asleep Emma Swan in a complete mess, sets the note and glass of water on her bedside table, and makes sure to leave her room quietly. It’s one thing to not disturb her, but another to have to ensure she’s okay and falling asleep on her couch - or any couch for that matter - does not ever end well. He drapes his jacket over himself and closes his eyes for the night.

 

His mouth still tastes like rum when he wakes up.

 

And it’s disgusting and awful because Emma stumbles out of her room just as he wakes up - what timing they have. The light flooding into her living room blinds him the moment he first opens his eyes, using the heels of his hands to rub his blinded vision away. “Good morning to you too, Swan,” he mutters, nearly rolling off the edge of the couch. He yawns and sits up, the pain in his neck is very evident and annoying.

 

“Uh, yeah, good morning,” she says back, rubbing the back of her head. “Damn, I had way too much to drink last night,” she mutters, displacing her empty glass into the sink. “Thanks for, well, taking care of me last night. I didn’t mean to go that overboard, it sorta just… happened.”

 

 _Does she have no memory of what happened last night? Bloody hell this is going to be difficult._ He sighs and curtly nods, stretching his neck and standing up. “Well, now that you’re perfectly fine I suppose I’ll take my leave now,” he supplies, slipping his leather jacket on. In an effort of not trying to seem somewhat suspicious, or different, it does quite the contrary. He’s about to walk out her door when she grabs his wrist and pulls him back, her eyes containing a questioning look, searching his eyes, his entire face for a clue.

 

“Hey, you’re acting strange… did I do something last night?”

 

It’s burning under his skin to tell her, to be honest, but he’s honestly frightened at how she will react. Killian wants to protect her, and last night, he almost broke that promise completely. He was nearly going to have his way with her, even after _everything_ , how she’s the one who insisted, how she started to bring his own walls down after Milah. He let her in, and now it’s painfully creeping up on him, and the memory of her lips against his are engraved into his mind, into his damn senses.

 

Smiling, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, love, nothing.” Maybe he will regret lying to her, pretending that they didn’t have an entire mindfucking, make-out session by the washrooms - he never regrets anything, really. “I think it’s just the rum speaking,” he lies, “no worries, Swan. I’ll just go back to my place and wash off. I’ll see you at work?”

 

She squints her eyes, her brows scrunched together, the lines across her forehead showing otherwise about how she’ll be believing him. She nods and lets go of him. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you at work.”

 

He nods and leans forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, slowly backing away after toward the door, pulling it open and leaving.

 

It’s needless to say that he’s just in turmoil, an abyss of emotions bleeding through his mind through every moment he remembers so thoroughly, so _flawlessly_ at the way she was kissing him last night. It’s a pang of hurt that spreads throughout his chest, the way he lied just to keep her safe - is it really keeping her safe? It was a spur of the moment decision, god damn it, if he can just come clean with her once and for all… but he can’t. It’s impossible. There’s no way to describe the decision without it implying a selfish-like behaviour. It’s all too soon, too fucking soon.

 

The desire that burns deep within to feel her lips against his again is tempting, real, etched into his heart somehow. Just… how and when has this woman started to take over his life? When did she traverse this difficult maze he’s put himself at the end with? God damn this is going to be a long, _long_ week. And Robin and Will disappearing? He is going to _kill_ those two. In spite of all the details being a fresh reminder in his brain, the entire idea of her comes back to haunt him, to tease him, to test his ugly patience.

 

She doesn’t remember kissing him.

 

He kissed her back. His hands were under her jacket, his lips were against hers in a passionate battle, his soul was somehow wanting her.

 

It’s going to tear him apart - the guilt - it’s going to. He’d really like to take a cold shower right now, but the amount of time he has remaining before his working hours states otherwise. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at his wardrobe. He thinks he reeks of rum and bars, and _Emma_ , so he changes his outfit, going with the v-neck and jacket again. He’s still yet to wash the other one which smells of Emma.

 

He needs to stop thinking about her. But, everything is leading to her at the moment.

 

He grabs his phone, which only has so much remaining battery left.

 

_Killian: I’m going to be late, lass. I need a shower because I personally do not want to walk around smelling like I had drowned myself in alcohol. Would you mind if I was fifteen minutes late?_

_Emma: No, I wouldn’t mind. But why does it seem like you’re trying to avoid me?_

 

_Killian: That’s ridiculous, Swan - I wouldn’t avoid you for the world._

 

Fucking lie.

 

_Killian: I’ll grab us our coffees on my way there._

_Emma: I’ll actually meet you there. I need breakfast, and I’m not really fond of cooking after a hangover._

_Killian: Sounds fine._

_Emma: See you then._

 

He chucks his phone onto the bed and groans, shaking his head from the thoughts. The shower (very cold shower) consists of him swimming through his thoughts - hah, swimming - because his mind is literally a screw-over. Reflecting back, he should have just said no in the first place to her. Hell, he should have just lied and said he was feeling bad and wanted a sick day. He’s never taken a sick day before, so why should it matter now? Well, technically everything matters. She kissed him, he kissed her back, and she has no apparent memory of what went on the previous night.

 

Everything was so pristine and different, but one kiss has changed everything.

 

His life just got a notch harder.

 

Turn the knob back down a bit, he can’t handle this. After Milah, he really hasn’t considered loving or even liking another woman that way again. But with the way Emma treats him, that bloody infuriating, determined, strong, independant woman, it’s becoming harder for him to ignore all the small things now. Everything’s as clear as glass, and that makes him struggle more and more for the air he so desperately needs to keep his lungs working, to keep himself breathing. Looking through her green eyes, the little glimmer at the edge whenever she beams a smile over at him, or even the way she just laughs at his (horrible) jokes, it reminds him so much of the type of person - woman - he likes.

 

However, being the stubborn arse he is, he refuses to acknowledge any of that. So, it’s just a shower, get the hell out of the apartment, and drop by Granny’s for coffee and breakfast. That’s all it is, yet he’s making it a big deal.

 

Okay, so maybe it is a big deal. It’s not the kiss that concerns him the most, it’s the reaction that concerns him. What if she hates him? That doesn’t solve anything, and it definitely won’t solve his current pretend relationship with her. It’s another heartbreak for him too, to watch her crumble at the news if she takes it the bad way. But what if he runs that mile, admits it, and she’s rather glad than mad? What if she’s relieved if he tells her the truth? Why should a decision like this be so hard to make? He sighs and shakes his head, keeping his head up as he trudges down the sidewalk to Granny’s.

 

His hair is still damp from the shower, and the weather outside makes him shiver slightly. But, given that he doesn’t live too far away from any of the major landmarks, he manages to get to Granny’s quickly without having to feel freezing. He immediately notices Emma sitting at the counter, talking to Ruby idly with a smile on her face. But there’s still something wrong with her, as if she’s tensed and worried and confused. So much explaining to do, so little effort being made to do so.

 

When she turns her head and smiles at him, he nods his greeting and approaches her, taking a seat next to her. Ruby has a suspicious glance between the two of them, before she tells Emma something about ‘solving the issue,’ and then speeding off to deal with other orders. Emma slides his coffee to him, and he stops it with a firm grip, realizing he’s acting a bit too stiff and over-the-top. He may have been able to escape her questioning earlier, but he can’t do it now.

 

His fingers wrap around the handle of the white mug, the steaming coffee itching at his sense of smell. He buries his nose in the morning drink, inhaling the dark roasted scent, while also tasting the slight bit of bitterness with some sweet sugar added with the side of it.

 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened last night and stop acting as if you’re not avoiding me when you obviously are?” she suddenly asks quite bluntly, finishing her hot cocoa with cinnamon - her favourite apparently.

 

He sighs and sets the mug down. “Not now, perhaps later,” is his his answers, drumming his fingers on the counter.

 

“At least you’ve acknowledged that… nevermind. But fine, but we’re talking after we eat,” she wholeheartedly demands.

 

He nods quite subtly, biting his lower lip at the entire thought. “I suppose.” She seems angry, and that is not something he wants to exactly deal with so early in the morning the day after a hangover. It’s never good, and when a woman requests to talk, he rarely finds that they are going to turn out as a pleasant conversation whatsoever.

 

It’s all but a beginning.

 

She grabs his wrist with a firm grip and takes him up and behind Granny’s, into the hallway of rooms. There’s no one there luckily, and it all starts but pleasant. “We kissed,” he blurts out, shaking his head in shame, “and I was too scared to admit it. Are you satisfied now, Swan?”

 

“Could have just told me.”

 

“And you’re not angry with me?”

 

“No. We were both drunk, and I actually remember everything - well most things.”

 

He feels a bit of betrayal welling inside of him. “You-”

 

She stops him, bringing her hands up. “Shut up. Let me talk.”

 

He nods and backs up, rocking on the heels of his feet as he waits patiently - sort of - for the answer. If she knew all along, why was she pushing it?

 

“I know I had been quite forward yesterday, blame the tequila for that.” She laughs softly. “But, I’m not angry at you for any of it. The things I said? Well, it’s still a bit blurry in my mind, but I do remember it was I who initiated the kiss, and you who stopped it. And do I blame you for it? No. Do I blame you for trying to keep it buried in our past? No. But, what I don’t like is when you lie to me.” She sighs, shrugging her shoulders casually. “I mean, long story short, I just wanted to know how you would react and treat me. I was… still over-the-edge yesterday, I’m sorry about that. You were trying to keep me safe again, I’m not oblivious to that fact, Killian. I know your motives are always good, I know you stopped because it was _bad form_ , I know _you_.”

 

“My sincerest apologies,” he mumbles, looking away slightly embarrassed. She knew all along, but just kept it because she was… testing him? Something like that.

 

“But I did learn something…”

 

His eyebrow raises. “And what’s that, love?”

 

There’s a bit of a reddish colour that creeps up onto her cheeks, and the way she retracts from the nervousness makes him smile. Everything’s fine, _normal_ again - sort of. “I now know how much of a good kisser you are,” she shyly states. “Makes pretending easier.”

 

He leans in. “I told you I was an exceptionally good kisser,” he whispers.

 

“Understatement of the year,” she mutters, and grasps the lapels of his jacket, pressing her lips against his.

 

 _Fuck_ , he thinks. His hands come up to rest comfortably on her waist, and he’s quickly backing her up against the wall. Again. Her hand trails down his chest, which makes him groan softly against her lips. This time, it’s more tender and real, he can actually soak in the feeling of himself against her. The sound of a door clicking doesn’t even stop them, but when he hears hissing and a stumble of footsteps…

 

 

* * *

 

“They’re kissing, fuckin’ hell mate, they’re kissing,” Will buzzes, smacking Robin on the arm.

 

Robin jolts up and his head makes a sharp turn to look at Will. “What?”

 

“They. Are. Kissing,” Will repeats, enunciating each word clearly.

 

“On the cheek?”

 

“No, you dumb git.” Will taps his lips. “ _Lips_.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbles, sighing as he recognizes the voices. “I just never have good luck, do I?” he mutters, letting his hands drop from her waist.

 

She laughs. “Now they know how serious we are. I knew they were coming.”

 

He sighs, and as much as he’s annoyed that Robin and Will had interrupted the moment, he’s glad because now this _game_ they’re playing is going to be a lot more easy now that they’ve seen it for themselves. Even the light laughter from Emma with her statement leaves him smirking deviously, knowing exactly what’s on her mind. Everything on his mind suddenly diminishes, so he just starts laughing, shaking his head at this absolutely, unusual encounter and outcome.

 

Playing pretend has never been so difficult yet fun at the same time.

 

“You two going to come out of there? You weren’t very subtle,” Killian exclaims, crossing his arms.

 

“Sorry, we hadn’t known you two were… sharing a moment,” Robin mumbles, walking out while he’s putting on his jacket. “I’m gonna go-”

 

“See Mayor Mills? Locksley, you’re horrible at concealing yourself from the truth.”

 

Emma steps forward beside Killian. “Woah, Robin likes Regina?”

 

Robin groans. “Killian, keep your mouth shut.”

 

“Apologies mate, but you wouldn’t keep yours shut until I had told you I was having a thing with Swan here,” he retorts back, shifting his weight over onto his other foot. “If you are having such an affair, you should be aware that you’ll be needing to stayinstead of leave Storybrooke, right? She’s already infuriating, I hardly think it’s going to get any better if you make her happy and then leave.”

 

“I know, I know.” Robin brushes it off, shaking his head. “I’m already considering it.”

 

Emma takes Killian’s hand and squeezes it gently - _damn it_ \- if he stays that means more lying and faking. How the hell is he going to do that for a longer period of time? And then his mind drifts back to the kiss, the one where both of them were fully aware - like 5 minutes ago - the one where she initiated and pulled him in, the one where he started to back her up against the wall because she’s a bloody minx and it just somehow has his body respond to her like that.

 

Good god, she kissed him - and he returned the favour. Although his mind is a crowded mess at the moment, his eyes don’t end up missing the way Robin is _slightly_ blushing at the entire subject. Killian sighs, knowing it’s only Thursday, and Robin and Will intend to stay another four days, they either choose to depart from Storybrooke and never return - disregarding visits - or they make the decision to stay, leaving Storybrooke to go pack up their possessions and returning back shortly later moving into some place at some point.

 

Four days. Four more days, maybe then he’ll be able to sort out what’s between him and Emma. Everything is so much more complicated now, they’ve kissed, _twice_ , to be exact. This shouldn’t be such a big deal, they’re supposed to act like a couple, except it is a big deal, because for so long he’s actually sometimes pondered upon the thought of how her lips would taste, how Emma Swan would taste, and now that they’ve actually kissed, he can’t rid himself of the lingering feeling that remains on his lips, or the way her hands went to his neck, or his chest.

 

“I’d also like to inquire one more thing, lads.”

 

Will slips out of the room and ends up beside Robin. “What’s up, Jones?”

 

“Where did you two go last night when I had excused myself to the restroom?”

 

Both of their mouths go agape, Killian has an unamused face on, and Emma is trying to keep her own laughter in.

 

Robin rubs the back of his neck. “About that…”


	7. Chapter 7

Long story short, Robin and Will urged Emma on about something and because she was still pretty drunk, and in her defence, she wasn’t thinking straight - explains the definition of her still being blurry on some scenes. Then, Will nearly got into a fight and since they didn’t need to get into any trouble, Robin decided to take him back to his room at Granny’s. Bugger excuse if he thinks about it, Killian is going to get back at them one day because messing with Killian Jones is never a good idea. And then gods, _Emma_ , having to continue to act like this is going to make him seem like a complete mess now.

 

So yes, maybe he does have some underlying feelings, a bit of attraction beneath a couple of layers, but it’s nothing more than that. The kiss did prove something - one hell of a kisser for one, and two, something he’s yet to put a pin on. Fucking emotions.

 

“We need to last until Monday,” she grumbles, shifting around on the station couch, trying to find her right position.

 

He just watches her from his desk, signing some random sheets about witness reports and whatnot. “Swan, it mustn’t be that difficult to deal with me,” he quips, placing his pen back in the pencil holder. Within the least three hours of their encounter with Robin and Will up at Granny’s, she’s been a little bit tense, and he’s noticed it. Best not to bring the kiss up then apparently. “Unless you find me far too aggravating to be around - I tend to do that to you somehow.”

 

“Oh you know _exactly_ how you get me riled up, so don’t go around acting as innocent as a lost puppy on the street, jerk,” she mutters quite angrily, closing her eyes. “Besides, if Robin and Regina are at it - if she’s happy with all this sudden affection - she’s going to be nice to me, and you know having a nice Regina is the rarest thing ever. And I don’t take kindness from Regina often, hence why I send David to do all the talking with her.”

 

It’s always a little rivalry and distaste between the two women, he’s always known that for sure ever since he arrived in Storybrooke. “Well, you can’t sue him for making her happy, can you?”

 

“No, but I want to sue you for bringing them here.”

 

“I didn’t bring them here, they came here willingly themselves to snoop around my personal life.”

 

She still laughs at that. “Exactly. So if you weren’t here, they would have never came here!”

 

He chuckles, stuffing the files into the folders, then into the metal drawers. “Suck it up, love. If you can tolerate me, you can tolerate the others too,” he says, “they aren’t _that_ bad.”

 

“You were the one complaining about them before, and now you’re the one telling me they’re not that bad too. I want to say you’re being a hypocrite, but then that makes me a hypocrite because I was actually trying to be nice and warm up to them too.” She lets out a frustrated sigh, finally propping herself on the couch comfortably. “You bring disasters everywhere.”

 

“Am I a disaster to you, Swan?” It’s time to bring out even more anger in her, because he’s _never_ had enough of her frustration before. It’s simply entertaining and amusing, especially since he’s working - it helps pass the time. “I don’t recall the fact that your life is falling apart because we’re so much of a disaster in your eyes,” he claims, knowing he’s right. “In most cases, I think I’ve brought more light into your so-called disastrous life! In a more _annoying_ way of course, though you’re the only one who’s ever complained about me being annoying. Most people consider me charming.”

 

She curses something he doesn’t hear, but then mutters, “Shut up.”

 

“Ah, so I’m correct, am I not? Swan, the first step to admitting the truth is denying it.” He purposely pops the ‘t’ at the end, just to get his point across.

 

“How do you do it?”

 

He glances up from the paper on his desk and narrows his eyes at her, shaking his head gently, having no bloody clue about what she’s asking or talking about. “How do I do what?”

 

“The entire… reading me thing,” she answers softly, tilting her head to the side - which he can admit it’s somewhat adorable. And he’s never used that term. What the hell?

 

The sudden understanding dawns on him and his eyelids slide closed as he sighs. “You’re somewhat of an open book, darling,” he tells her, “not that difficult for me to read you. But, there are some things that I will never be able to discover or understand about you because you tend to close off on certain subjects, if I’m not mistaken of course.”

 

Walls are being put up again, slowly but surely it’s happening. He can see it, feel it, and it aches him where he wants to reach out and assure her that whatever she’s gone through, he’ll always still be a good friend to her, a _lasting_ figure in her life. The way she dies down into the silence, tries to blend in as if nothing’s happened, be a small part of life. It’s never really occurred to him how she manages to do this so quickly, but he figures it’s a whim, a very _habitual_ whim of course. He sighs and scratches behind his ear, leaning back in his chair.

 

“You know how David said I didn’t have such a good childhood?” she quietly asks, looking down at her lap.

 

“Aye.” A wondrous and adventurous time today. “Look, Swan, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

 

“I know, but I feel like it’s time. I’ve been running for so long, just away from everything I’ve ever felt or experienced in the past, the pain and loss, the abandonment and struggles. I feel like, maybe, just maybe if I can trust you with this information, finally tell someone besides David, then the weight of the world on my shoulders can just be lifted.” She shrugs, falling back slightly on the couch. “I just don’t know where to begin.”

 

First instinct of his is to get up, so that’s exactly what he does. He’s absolutely willing to hear all of her story, just to know her. Pissing her off is one thing, but he’s vowed to keep her safe - meaning he’ll need to know about all of her. Not just that tiny bits and pieces he manages to pick up at some point during the day on a busy week, or when they drink coffee and keep conversations casual in the morning. Crossing the space between them, he stands in front of her. “Mind if I sit down?” She shakes her head, and he drops down next to her, feeling the dip of the couch.

 

“I told you one part of my life, well a little bit.”

 

“Graham? The man who had died of a heart attack and was Sheriff before you and Dave?”

 

She nods. “Yeah. But there’s more to that story. I only told you the vague details… and there’s so much more before that - god it hurts to even think about it.”

 

He smiles and takes her hand, interlacing their fingers. Might be more intimate than he’s intended, but he wants her to know he’s okay with everything that she’s about to tell him - about to _trust_ him with. “Take your time, love. I’ve got all the time in the world.” Conjuring up another statement, it’s in the hope of lightening the mood. “That is unless the world explodes and we all perish off Earth.”

 

Emma laughs, a small smile dancing upon her lips. That’s Emma Swan there, he reminds himself.

 

And so she begins talking about her story, from step one. They decide it’ll take some time, and they’re lucky as hell David doesn’t seem to want to drop by the station during this entire time. “Well, I guess first thing’s first. I’m an orphan, and I think you’ve already got that much figured out; we’re similar there.” She sighs. “Abandoned, technically. No trace of who my parents are, and sometimes I really do wonder just why they had to leave me like that. But that’s not even the worst of all. Naturally, I was put in the foster system, which meant families adopting kids - I was naïve back then, thought everything would be fine, that I’d find a family who would love me.

 

“That belief got thrown out the window after a month of hope being shattered and broken. I was adopted by plenty of families, but I was never cared for. Either used for the money, abused, ignored, everything a little girl would have despised and hated growing up. It wasn’t until grade seven or something where David’s mom took me in, so I’ve got much to owe him when it comes to being family and friends. So technically you can say he’s my step-brother. And besides that, he was my only friend. Anyways, it wasn’t until high school was when he started dating Mary Margaret, and where I met Ruby.

 

“You can probably imagine me lost and closed off. I secluded myself from most people, stayed away from going out, always in my room or with David and Mary Margaret. But as much as David’s mom was lovely, I never felt fully loved. It was just a missing piece of my heart. And then, by the end of school, I was dating a guy called Walsh. He was smart, perceived to be caring and kind, but it was all fake. I was finally opening up, you know? But then, everything went downhill when I was nineteen. He cheated on me with some school asshole called Zelena, broke me, broke all the _trust_ I held in him. It hurt - like, a fucking lot. After about a year, I started moving on, but I definitely didn’t like trusting anyone again besides Ruby, David and Mary Margaret.

 

“What sucks was that when I was _finally_ considering loving someone again, or just someone I care about, it was all gone in an instant again. When David asked me to go for deputy back then, I was more than ecstatic about the job. Graham was a great guy - funny, humble, hardworking. And before I knew it, I started to like him more than a friend - like a crush. You know how the story goes from there though. He died of a heart attack, just like that, _gone_ , another person I liked and cared for just vanishing from my life again. And… and he…”

 

She’s sniffling and shaking her head, and before he knows it, she’s starting to cry. _Bloody hell_. He adjusts his body so he can take her in for a hug, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other trying to rub her back gently, to soothe her. “Swan,” he murmurs into her hair. Her tears are staining his t-shirt, but damn he doesn’t care. “Just let it out, love.”

 

Her sobs are broken, each time she sniffs, it sounds like there’s something lodged in her nose. Her breathing is broken too, ragged and short, struggling to catch her breath. His heart seems to crack a little every time. So many things have happened to her, and now that he knows, he understands the reasoning behind her tough composure, the way she sets up her own bravado, standing behind some silhouette of her own self sometimes. The shadows lurk around, and just explaining her past has left a little gap to allow the light in. He knows. It’s been the same for him and Milah, or where his father had left him, when his mother had died.

 

Her shoulders are still hunched a little bit, the way she’s breaking down completely, letting him see her in this state. _She’s a tough lass_ , he reminds himself, smiling a little bit at the thought. But she eventually stops, and god he’s so worried about her, how much pain she’s been keeping in, how many secrets are stored away in that mind of hers, how much she struggles to deal with each day.

 

“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice gentle and quiet, pulling away to wipe the lingering tears on her cheeks.

 

“Yeah. A lot actually,” she admits, blinking a couple of times. “Thank you… and I need to finish the story.” She swallows. “The funny thing was that he was healthy, always healthy. He was athletic, he knew how to put up a fight and everything - he did his job quite well protecting the streets of Storybrooke from petty little residential thieves and all. I’ll never really understand how it happened, but it did, and I can’t change any of that anyways.”

 

It hurts so much for her, but he’s understanding and knowing her now. He keeps his arm around her, letting her head rest gently on his shoulder. “Thank you for sharing… _all_ of that with me, Emma. I’m honoured to know that you trust me with your past,” he humbly thanks, his hand tightening on her shoulder. “I suppose that’s enough sharing for one day, unless you have something more to enlighten me with?”

 

“Enlighten?”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, but I’m glad about what you’ve been through. The heartbreak, the struggles. All of it, Swan.”

 

It’s confusion that grows on her face. “What… why?”

 

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s created who you are today - the bloody infuriating, brave, stubborn woman you are. And to be honest, besides Robin, Will, Victor - who is the one and only doctor we know - and David… you’ve been a big part of my life. Procuring myself this job wasn’t as difficult as I had originally imagined of course, all I needed was a bit of charm and stroking my own ego of-”

 

“You thought your charm would get you the job?” She starts laughing, and it turns uncontrollable the second she starts. Soon enough, she’s trying to catch her breath, rubbing her eyes. “I needed a laugh there, please continue on.”

 

“There’s nothing more to say, love. Just a thank you and that I promise I shall always remain by your side. How does that sound?”

 

“Sounds promising.”

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose at the way she uses promising. Damn her and her witty comments. “Is this a time to have a play on words?”

 

“ _No_ \- I’m serious. You’re a good guy, Killian. Thanks for being such a great friend.”

 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “My pleasure, Swan. Now, moving on from these rather dark subjects, what do you say we do our patrol around town?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Bloody hell, where am I?” he grumbles, cracking his eyes open._

_“Holy shit… you’re finally awake.”_

_The voice is familiar, but his sense of hearing is still buzzing and ringing, hearing beeping and the sound of something muffled. But, the familiar blonde hair falls in front of his vision, even if everything is still a bit blurry and trying to gain focus. He groans. He starts to feel the random crap stuck onto him._

_Ah, so he’s in the hospital. Putting the pieces together is not that difficult._

_“Sorry, darling. Never knew I’d scare you that much,” he rasps out, squeezing his eyes shut and reopening them again. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much of what happened.”_

_“You were on patrol by that bar and got hit by something apparently - no one has details, no witnesses either. Head damage though, nothing too severe that you couldn’t handle. We were worried you weren’t going to wake, Jones; it’s been two days.” She yawns. “Jesus, it’s so late. Why couldn’t you have picked a better time to wake up?”_

_“Sorry, Swan. Go home and sleep, no need to be here on my account.”_

_She shakes her head stubbornly, heading toward the door. “Not likely. I’m getting Whale so he can check up on your vitals and all.”_

_He groans as a complaint, but that doesn’t stop her from leaving the room and returning with his old college buddy Victor Whale. He’s the only other one that came with him to Storybrooke, since Robin and Will remained back in Boston instead. Victor glared at him and shook his head with a smug smirk, going to the machines and checking whatever the hell it is._

_“He’s fine. A full recovery is already on its way, just a couple of bruises on his head from some blunt trauma, everything else about him is healthy,” Victor explains. “He can go home by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll just need to keep him for the remainder of the night to make sure everything is completely stable.” He turns back to Killian. “Robin and Will would totally be laughing at you if they were here, dude. You’re a deputy, and you got hit by some… I don’t know, drunk guy.”_

_“Bloody git,” he murmurs, “spare me the details of my humiliating blackout, please.”_

_The both of them laugh at him, and he just shakes his head wearily, letting his eyes droop again. He needs some sleep, he’ll just wake up in the morning again, and then when he’s tested with a positive response and all that other shit, he just go back to the apartment, take a shower (he does smell like hospital, whatever that is) and get back to work. Work is the only thing that’ll keep his mind off of whatever had happened, nor does he need reminders of how he ended up in the hospital, or how Emma has stayed with him for awhile._

_“Don’t worry, he’s gonna need all the sleep he can get so he doesn’t feel like he had a massive hangover the following day.”_

_“Jones and a massive hangover?” She scoffs. “I’ve dealt with worse.”_

_It’s all muffled voices, but he hears it clearly enough though, and he wants to laugh, but he needs sleep._

_Really badly. The fatigue is calling for him._

 

 

* * *

 

 

He drops her off at her apartment, watching her disappear through the lobby. The painful thing is that he sits there in the car for a couple of minutes before he actually starts the car and heads off again. Just the spur of a moment ‘let me reminisce about what has happened today.’

 

Except when he gets back to the apartment and tries to fall asleep, hah, well that doesn’t work - hence the word _tries_. Without a second thought, he swings his jacket over his shoulders and slips his arms through it, changes back to a pair of jeans and grabs his keys and heads out the apartment. The vast dark sky covering over the world is just above him the entire time he strolls down the street, his feet bringing him toward the docks of Storybrooke.

 

There are covered boats for the season, like the one he had been lended to use for their practice date. He yawns, leaning over on the railing, his elbows resting comfortably against the metallic structures. Leaves rustled as the calm breeze blows past him. He listens to the sounds of nature surrounding him, the water hitting the wooden pier, the sound of the wind merely passing by. And through this, he can’t help but think because what else is he supposed to do when he looks like a lonely man by the docks in the middle of the night doing nothing but being idle?

 

The moonlight casts a dim light over the town, noticing it immediately when he sighs and looks up, paying attention to the stars that litter the entire night sky. He falls back to remembering their date, the way he taught her some constellations, made relations with Cygnus, showed her the world from a completely different perspective than usually being on land.

 

“Killian?”

 

He jerks up in attention, standing up straight and turning around to see her pointing a gun at him.

 

“Swan.”

 

“Someone reported a dark figure by the docks, I did not expect you to be here,” she explains, tucking her gun away into the back pocket. “Now that I think about it, what are you doing here at two in the morning?”

 

He hums, the sound growing from the back of his throat. He shakes his head and shrugs casually, turning back to the sea and leans against the metal railing. “The same as usual, lass,” he tells her vaguely, his hands running over his face in a hopeless manner. “Apologies if I was far too conspicuous, you can go back to the comfort of your apartment now that you’ve confirmed the _dark figure_ is indeed your co-worker.”

 

“I can’t do that,” she says, and her voice is louder than before, her footsteps are growing in volume. Soon enough, she’s standing next to him, looking out into the distance. Everything is so dark, he can’t make out much. “Why aren’t you able to sleep all of a sudden? You could before.”

 

“If I had an answer…” he fades off , closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. “I’d answer. But unfortunately I’ve fallen on the null side of things and do not have much to supply as a reason,” he continues. “Go home, Swan.”

 

She scoffs. “ _Home_.” Her tone of voice is acrimonious, as if she’s completely disputing against the idea of a home. “What is a home?” she asks aloud, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “I wouldn’t know, Jones, so don’t tell me to go home. I don’t have one.”

 

“News flash, darling, I don’t either - perhaps the label of a hypocrite applies to me now.” He shifts his body so one elbow rests on the metal as the remainder of his body is facing her. “We have a lot in common, don’t we? Being orphans. Knowing lost and abandonment. Our own bitter pasts… Well, the list goes on for much longer, but I’m not going to spend that much time with it.”

 

“I guess.” She yawns and rubs her eyes. “I need sleep, and you do too.”

 

“That’s something we can both agree on,” he mutters, shutting his eyes. “I think I’ve been calmed. I’ll walk you back? I pass your apartment anyways.”

 

“Sure.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things just don't go Killian's way - poor guy. Happy Once Day! (Oh, and 60 kudos, awesome.)

He goes home and actually ends up falling asleep, and for some reason, he feels as if his bed feels a lot more larger than usual. He disregards the feeling, shaking it off, and falls under the calling for fatigue. It’s a dreamless night, but it doesn’t stop the busy grinding gears in there.

 

When morning shines through his curtains, the blinded glow warming his skin, he groans as his eyes flicker between the window and the clock which tells him it’s time to get up. He no longer needs an alarm, his body acts on his own, always waking up at the right times due to it become a procedure he follows each and every single day. Throwing himself into the washroom, the bags under his eyes have somewhat dissipated away, which means his body has already started to recover - a good thing. The feel of shaving is like grace, like a little bit of weight has been removed off his face.

 

As the usual, he drops by Granny’s to grab the coffee, greeting a couple of people he meets early. The station doors are already unlocked, meaning either David or Emma is already here, but he decides it’s Emma because her yellow bug is parked outside in her so called parking spot. He can still remember the way he made her frustrated because of accidentally parking in that spot being completely clueless it was her usual location. He’s correct, it’s Emma sitting there - but she seems a little bit reflective, which is odd. Unless you consider the fact of yesterday’s conversation where she spilled herself all over him, or how they met at the docks in the middle of the night - or morning, however you see it.

 

“Swan.” He holds out her coffee as he takes a drink out of his, _refreshing_ as hell.

 

“Thanks, Jones,” she says, taking the cup from his hand. Their fingers skim each other, but she seems not too affected by it, it’s not like some little contact will do anything. They’ve been fake dating for at least three days now, they just need to last a little bit longer.

 

“There’s my little brother!”

 

He is going to punch a wall at some point. “Bloody fuck,” he grunts, turning around and seeing Liam smiling. “Just how many times is someone going to unexpectedly show up at my door?” he mutters under his breath. “Liam, it’s great to see you… but mind explaining all this to me? Is Elsa with you?”

 

“She’s in the car,” Liam responds, “but it’s been awhile, brother. How’ve you been doing? Oh, pardon me, I didn’t see the lady behind you.” He nudges Killian out of the way, smiling. “Liam Jones,” his brother introduces himself, extending his hand out.

 

Killian glances over at Emma, and she seems slightly overwhelmed at the entire situation. She nods and smiles - it seems tight and stiff though, unusual of her - and takes his hand for a firm looking handshake. “Emma Swan,” she introduces in return. “Killian has told me a lot about you, Liam. It’s great to finally meet the brother in flesh.”

 

“Killian, is she…”

 

“Uhm, erm, yeah,” he stutters, reaching to scratch behind his ear. “We’re sort of a thing, yeah,” he clarifies, smiling slightly nervously.

 

He clasps him on the shoulder, nodding in approval. “Good, because you two are looking at each other like complete and utter fools to think I wouldn’t realize.” Liam sighs, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “How long? Because I just assumed, and you kept it a secret from me. It’s my job to take care of you.”

 

“A couple of days, brother,” Killian answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip out of his coffee. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you because there have been a couple of issues to take care of recently taking up my schedule. But in other news, how’s Elsa and the child?”

 

“Sorry for interrupting, but shouldn’t you bring your wife in here instead of making her wait in the car? Seems rather odd,” Emma interjects. “We can talk better like that anyways.”

 

“Ah, she’s a smart one. You’ve gotten yourself lucky, Killian. I’ll be right back.”

 

Killian nods and rolls his eyes as he watches Liam slip away out the station to go grab Elsa. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know they were going to pay a surprise visit, I’m just as surprised as you are.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall.

 

“Killian, it’s fine. I signed up for it,” she assures him.

 

“Thank you, Swan.”

 

Liam returns back with Elsa, introducing her to Emma. Killian hugs her, knowing it’s the appropriate gesture considering they are family. She’s always been a bright lass, smart too. Fits to be with his stubborn arse of a brother anyways. So, they talk and talk. Congratulations are sent toward their way since she’s now carrying a child. He finally sees Emma let loose a little bit, and she’s subtly taking a liking toward Elsa. They seem somewhat similar in a way, so perhaps it’s nice for her to befriend her. Emma needs some more socializing anyways since it’s always between like three other people in her life.

 

They also talk about the business, Liam telling him and filling him in on how it’s doing well. David soon enters as well, and is surprised by the amount of people. Killian just introduces the two of them, and Liam is very impressed by the life he now holds, not that it really matters. It’s just that since Liam was the one who raised him for the majority of his life, he tends to be protective and proud of his brother when he accomplishes other stuff. Including his… girlfriend, or whatever you want to label it as. When he thinks about it, he hasn’t even discussed everything with David yet, and he hasn’t asked since, so perhaps later is a time he’s going to talk to him about it.

 

But, they’re putting up a good ruse. His arm around her shoulders, smiling and laughing, and then there’s a little bit of groaning and complaining when it comes to some dumb stuff Liam brings up. Before they know it, the day goes by.

 

Except, there’s an issue at the end of the day, and it’s arrangements for Liam and Elsa.

 

“Brother, I’ve got a favor to ask of you. When we arrived, Granny Lucas had told us there are no more available rooms around,” Liam states, shaking his head a little, “and Elsa and I require a place to take residence for the remainder of a visit.”

 

“I only have one bedroom, unfortunately. Perhaps I can work something out with Emma.” His eyes dart past his brother’s shoulders to see her smiling and talking with Elsa. “Hold on.” He pats Liam on the shoulder, rounding him and going toward the two women. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but may I borrow my girlfriend for a moment?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, go ahead, Killian,” Elsa answers.

 

“Thank you, love.” He drags Emma’s arm so they round the corner of the corridor to discuss their little issue.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“The odds are against us, Swan. There are no more available lodgings at Granny’s and they need a place to stay. I’d give them the use of my apartment, however, then I’d be out of a place to stay, and I need your input on what to do. I’m sure we can arrange something, but I’m at a brick wall at the moment,” he explains quickly.

 

“Well, shit,” she curses, shrugging. “I don’t have a spare room either, but… oh. I don’t want to be the one suggesting it, but unless you want to sleep on the couch in my place… Just - okay, we’re adults,” she quickly corrects herself, “we’re supposed to be dating, we can share a bed… right? And no you’re not sleeping on the damn floor, don’t pull any gentleman crap on me. You can give them your apartment for the rest of their stay, and we can just head back to my place. Well, you need to like… pack some stuff, I’m not giving you my clothes or anything.”

 

“Are you sure about this, love? I don’t want to ask you of too much,” he asks for confirmation, tilting his head slightly, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip.

 

“It’ll make us seem more dedicated, won’t it?”

 

“That it does…” He sighs. “Alright, I’ll tell them of what we have arranged then.” The both of them head back, and now David’s talking with the both of them. Everyone apparently has their liking with each other, which is a good thing he supposes.

 

He explains to Liam and Elsa the plan, and even Liam asks if it’s too much to request for. But, since they’ve already made up their mind, they agree to it anyways. It’s just that he’ll need to pack up some stuff for the next week to stay at Emma’s until they figure out something else - if there’s even a reason to figure out something else.

 

And of course, the drive to his apartment is full of questions from his brother and Elsa. Specifics to say at the least. And thank god he knows her well enough to answer questions accurately enough, or just enough to suffice as an answer actually. His life is only going to get harder from now, he did _not_ sign up for this, nor is he prepared, but he’s playing along with it anyways. Emma hardly seems too distraught on the idea anyways, she appears rather insistent about everything, which is perfectly fine with him. He’ll need to thank her somehow, he’ll just need to figure out how.

 

He helps them carry a few bags with them into his apartment, showing them around quickly and everything. Not to be mean or anything, but he wants to get out of there as fast as possible now. As much as he cares for his brother and Elsa, he hasn’t had any time to himself, and he usually prides himself in little company. It’s never past two people, so now that there’s Robin, Will, Elsa, and Liam, his life just got a lot more cramped in terms of company.

 

“... and finally a key for you,” he says, throwing the keys at Liam. “Take care, brother. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Once again, I owe you my thanks. For once we’ve reversed our roles,” Liam says, grinning.

 

“I’m a deputy around here, I do what I need to do.” He sighs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Enjoy your stay in Storybrooke, Liam.” He pulls the door open and leaves, walking down the hallway and into the elevator.

 

By the time he’s standing in front of Emma’s door, he’s nervous - more nervous than anything in the world. _Sharing a bed?_ That’s one thing. _Sharing a washroom?_ Another. _Sharing the same apartment?_ Bloody hell, he’s just in some catastrophic life crisis with his relationship status and the surprises from other people. He hears shuffling from the other side of the door, and of course, the door swing open with her in sweats and a t-shirt.

 

They greet casually, she just tells him where he can place his belongings and where everything is in case he ever actually needs to find anything urgently. But, _fuck_ , this it the first time he’s ever been in her bedroom, and it’s clean and quite empty. _Swan’s not one for decorations then_ , he figures, glancing around as he sets his bag down in the corner of the room. The walls are a light shade of grey, no paintings or photos hanging upon them. A sliding door for a small closet in one corner, in the other is a simple desk and a laptop.

 

The bed is a queen size, similar to his of course. It’s neatly tidied. _She takes care well_ , he thinks, rummaging through his belongings to find his pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for the night. Sometimes, he’d settle shirtless, but considering this is Emma’s house, which is Emma’s rules, it’s best he doesn’t do something that makes her uncomfortable. The last thing he needs is to be kicked out of her apartment without a return card. He brushes past her when he ducks into the washroom to change and brush his teeth.

 

His mind never settles when it comes to Emma Swan, and within the past few days, everything has been rocketing out of his control. First Robin and Will drop by and stay, then he’s playing a fake game with all of them by asking Emma for the favour of being his fake lover, then the next thing is Liam and Elsa visiting as well. God, it would be nice to just go back to Emma, David and him, but that’s not something that’s coming any time soon if he knows his brother well enough. If he’s taken a break from work and the company, that means they’ll be here for longer, and longer is bad, because the more he plays fake, the more he starts to realize there’s something else he feels deep down.

 

He sighs and flicks the light off, sauntering a couple of steps before he’s in her bedroom again, chucking his clothes into his available spot. She’s already in bed on her preferred side, so he lifts the covers and gets in under her. They barely speak to each other, and it’s relatively awkward to be sleeping with his friend, his coworker, his _boss_. Holy shit, everything is so wrong with this, but being in bed with her brings up the kiss again, both the first and second time.

 

Both of their backs face each other, and from the looks of it, he can’t sleep, and according to her breathing pattern, neither can she. But, they stay silent and just as he hopes sleep will come for him, he wonders if she feels the exact same, he wonders if she wants to sleep to - or the reasons behind the inability to get the rest they need for the next day (which should be full of tours and frustration). For a moment, he thinks he hears her call his name, so he shrugs it off and slides his eyes closed just in an attempt to block out everything, but that doesn’t work when it happens again.

 

“Are you awake too?”

 

He sighs, adjusting his hand under the pillow. “Yeah,” he mumbles quietly, hearing the nocturnal winds outside blowing through Storybrooke.

 

“We’re putting up a good act, aren’t we?” she asks softly. She flips over to face him because he can feel the rise and dip of the mattress.

 

He does the same, rolling onto his other side to face her. “They’re not too difficult to please.” At least, he thinks that’s the reason they’re convincing all of them so easily. “Liam likes you.”

 

“I’ve noticed.” She pokes his ribs which causes him to flinch slightly. “Tell me a story.”

 

“And why should I do that, love?”

 

“Because… maybe I’ll fall asleep?”

 

“And what of me?”

 

“You’ll fall asleep too.”

 

“You’re awfully sure about this.” He yawns, adjusting himself so he’s on his back, his eyes hitting the ceiling. “As you wish.” He inhales a deep breath, letting himself conjure up some cliché story. "Once upon a time there was a dashing rapscallion of a pirate who would pillage and plunder every ship he came across - but, make no mistake, although he may appear ruthless, he was no less intelligent."

 

"Really, a pirate tale?"

 

"Do you want a story or not?"

 

"I'd have thought you would have a better story in mind than that, Jones," she complains, doubting his storytelling skills. "But do go on."

 

"Where was I? Ah, that's right. Now, this pirate is no regular pirate you see... He was an ex-lieutenant, wanting to get revenge on the corrupted monarchy that had ended his brother's dear life, the previous captain before him. This pirate captain, he became the most feared pirate on the seven seas, he built up quite a reputation where most men feared crossing paths with him. What's even worse is that he had shortly then lost another loved one because she was trying to run away from a coward of a husband. She desired for adventure, freedom away from this man, so, he asked this pirate, and he would give it to her at no cost because he really did love her and wanted to give her everything. However, the coward husband returned as he became a dark man of magic..." he starts to trail off as he glances over, her eyes closed and her breaths evened out.

 

Even for the slightest moment, just watching her calmly sleep soothes him, assures him that he can even make her fall asleep by telling a simple story, a fairy tale. He didn’t even get to the princess part yet. Perhaps another time he’ll continue the tale for her, but not tonight. The way her golden hair falls over her shoulders like a waterfall, or how worry-free her face expression is, it puts him into a state of trance. At some point, he falls asleep just by watching her.

 

Morning rises far too early for him, waking just at the crack of dawn. There’s a weight on his chest, something he doesn’t recall from earlier, but when he opens his eyes and glances down, it’s Emma’s head resting comfortably. He doesn’t have the heart to wake her up, but she probably figures out that he’s awake and she yawns, rubbing her eyes. The moment Emma apparently notices the position she’s in, she scrambles up and apologizes profusely.

 

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Swan, relax,” he assures, sitting up and stretching his arms out. “I’m not going to charge you for getting comfortable in your own bed, let alone on the man in it, because trust me, I’m not the one complaining, darling.” He winks at her and swings his legs out of bed, scratching his head.

 

Although he’s not intentionally paying any attention to her when he grabs his spare change of clothes, it’s worth noting her cheeks are flushed red in a tone he’s never really noticed before. He sighs and smirks, shaking his head.

 

“I’m… gonna go to the washroom first,” she mumbles, tripping on her words as she disappears out of the bedroom.

 

It takes a minute for him to realize how much she’s embarrassing herself in front of him, but he finds himself quite flustered by the ways he reacts. Just as he chucks his shirt off, she walks in the room, and on reflex he turns around to look at her. Her mouth is agape, and her eyes are wide. “See something you like, Swan?”

 

“Oh no, definitely not,” she mutters, going into her closet and grabbing her jacket. “Hurry up and change, David needs a _discussion_ between us today because you failed to tell him the details of our little game here and it’s difficult for him to keep up and understand. We also need to expect your brother and wife if they need a tour around town. Can I be the one not responsible for that this time?”

 

“Failure on my part - my apologies, Swan.” He slips his long sleeve on, reaching for the jacket that’s draped over her chair. “How about,” he turns to face her with his trademark smirk, “we do it as a team?”

 

She groans. “Fine.”

 

“That’s the spirit, love.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Explaining to David about the entire ‘fake dating’ plan is a lot more frustrating than he’s anticipated, because just as he thought, he’s protective over Emma. At first, he’s quite enthralled, being completely immersed in their good explanation, but the more they explain, the closer they get to the _kisses_ and that’s not on the list for either of them to discuss. In some way, he’s feel hopeful that maybe it meant something to her, something _more_ than being _just_ a kiss - but Swan, she doesn’t date, hasn’t since she was nineteen, and there’s no way he stands a chance against that.

 

What he feels is that maybe they can work it out, maybe they really can give each other the slightest bit of a chance to work together - more than bloody coworkers and partners. _Damn it_ , when did he start thinking like that? When did he get over Milah?

 

Just as they’re about to go get their daily morning coffee and maybe a grilled cheese (Emma’s request per usual), David pulls him by the arm back while she saunters off outside.

 

“Don’t hurt her by doing this, Killian, you know I’ve told you she hasn’t dated since nineteen.”

 

“I know that, _mate_. She spoiled me her story the other day while we were here in the station, _all_ of it, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. I knew the risks going into this, and I gave her a way out, but she had insisted to help me because I’ve been there for her as have you. Trust me, Dave, I know I’m walking on water. I’m serious.”

 

David sighs and claps Killian on the shoulder. “Alright, I trust you. Just, please don’t do anything bad because I don’t think I can handle seeing heartbreak take her again.”

 

“I’ll be careful, I promise you that.”

 

Besides, Killian Jones likes to keep his promises, and with her own emotions on the line, he can’t break this one, especially because it will break him too.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Aye, Storybrooke gets the most busy during the summer because of the attraction of sailing,” Killian explains, leaning against the railing. He points toward the row of boats all aligned up behind them. “Some do fishing as well, but never anything too abundant close to shore here. It’ll take going out far for them to find any aquatic animals. In most cases, spring time and autumn get a bit of business too, but never as much compared to the bright, sunny days of summer.”

 

“And what of you, Killian? Do you still sail?” Elsa asks.

 

He exhales from his nose, shaking his head gently. “Not as much as before, Elsa. In fact, the other day was the first day I had set foot on a ship in months.”

 

“For what occasion?”

 

“I was taking Emma out on a date,” he briefly states, shrugging his shoulders, “which was nothing particularly far. Taught her a couple of constellations which were visible enough while we were at it, aye?”

 

“Yeah, it was a great experience,” Emma answers, “gotta admit though, Killian’s a good teacher and story teller.”

 

“You were complaining last night about my horrid story!” Killian pouts, his eyebrows knitted together.

 

She groans, rolling her eyes at him. “Okay look, it lulled me to sleep so I’m grateful for that and just take the compliment before I take it back tonight.”

 

“You two argue about the smallest things.” Liam scoffs, barely keeping himself in though because he’s about to burst out laughing. “Emma, I apologize for my brother’s incompetence as a storyteller, perhaps he should stick to being a deputy around here.”

 

“He should.”

 

Killian wants to think of some snarky comeback, but he doesn’t. “I will then.”

 

“You should have seen me and Anna, my sister, when we argued.” Elsa shakes her head. “They were always over something dumb, but they always strengthened our bond in the end, so it should apply the same to you two. The more you argue, the more you learn about the other.”

 

“That’s a good thing then, we argue a lot,” Emma quips, smirking at him.

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, trying to take in everything. She’s trying to torture him now, turn it all on him, and it’s bloody working out. How splendid. “I believe you start most of them, love. Not that I keep track of course, that would just be bloody pathetic on my part.” He shoots her a short-lived mocking grin, making her roll her eyes and slap him across the arm. “I probably deserved that,” he mutters to himself, unable to contain the smile forming on his face.

 

Emma sighs and smiles at the couple in front of them. “Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed our rather sidetracked tour of Storybrooke.”

 

“Besides the entertainment between you and Killian, I think we both did enjoy the little tour our town. I like it here; being away from the city and such,” Elsa says, looking over at Liam. “Don’t you agree?”

 

Liam nods and smiles warmly. “Aye, that I do.”

 

Killian’s phone goes off when he’s about to say something, and by the looks of it, he won’t get to say any of it. It’s a call from David, so he excuses himself from the pack of three others around him to go answer the call. Although with the rambling in his ear about something-something-unfinished-paperwork, Killian groans and tells him he’s on his way to go finish whatever the hell David mentioned. Usually, his schedule is never so cramped, and he swears that he finished all possible paperwork already, but perhaps he missed a couple that are apparently significant to whatever Dave requires, so he stuffs the phone back into his pocket with a huff of a hopeless breath, turning around and returning to the three of them casually talking.

 

“I have to go back to the station,” he says, “since Dave needs me to sign off some more bloody sheets of paper that I’ve apparently not done yet.” Sighing, he nods at Liam and Elsa with a smile, but turns back to Emma. “See you tonight, love.” He brushes his lips across her cheek for a second, and then he’s speeding off back to the station to get the work done. The earlier he’s done, the earlier he can go, or, well, at least spend his time doing something else than reading hundreds of words that he never actually pays attention to.

 

And here’s the story of Killian Jones, spinning his chair back and forth in a repetitive manner as he reviews random sheets of paper. Something about property value damage - okay, god maybe he’s not paying attention because his mind is constantly circling around Emma, the kisses, then Liam and Elsa being here. A clusterfuck of of life is being served to him at the moment, and he’s not really in the brightest of moods to deal with, but when he remember of last night… Narrating a cliché story making her fall asleep, and then just having her next to her putting him to sleep as well…

 

There’s something there, something, and he’s dying to know, to understand what the hell he’s feeling, because the mutual feeling is falling through the roof. Throwing himself into work usually pushes away those thoughts, diminishes frustration or anger, but today, it’s not exactly working out for him the way it usually does. Spending countless hours doing nothing in particular will not even soothe the grinding gears of his busy little brain. With little subtle consideration, and very small bit of association with Robin and Will today, he feels something is wrong, but he can’t put his finger on it just yet. Of course, there’s another day or longer before Robin and Will make their decision to stay, and that itself is an odd change to his life… again. Everything is changing so drastically at once, he’s not sure if he can hide behind his mask of cockiness and jokes before he falls apart with so much dragging him on at once.

 

It’s a desolate place, the station, when it’s empty and you’re the only person in there occupying it. He’s been so used to company for the past couple of days, he’s feeling deprived from the usual person or two bothering him aimlessly about something useless, or just having a laugh with others. There’s a desperate plea inside of him to just get the work done and over with already. He squints his eyes at the paper, going over the extremely small words - is this like size three font? - to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up. Not to his surprise, he yawns, his eyes getting watery as he flips onto the next page in his package of papers stapled together he’s holding.

 

Another hour passes by, and god damn is he happy to have finally finished going over all that pointless paperwork that he regrets never finishing earlier. The clock says it’s a little past three in the afternoon, and his feet are asleep and the tingly feeling bothers him. Shaking his foot out, he sighs to release the stress, his shoulders sagging over as his eyes slide closed to try and ring out all possible sounds to nothing but the mere silence surrounding him in an empty, deserted office.

 

He is dying to just go back to his - wait - Emma’s apartment and climbing into bed without a second thought because he’s bloody exhausted. Maybe a pint or two of rum can also be involved so he can just forget and numb some pain from the excruciating return of Emma’s lips ghosting over his, and the thought of Milah’s death frequently visiting his sleep. Except, there's a flaw to his plan - his rum stash is back at his apartment, and he's not going to go back there while Liam is there with Elsa for them to realize that he's still all over his rum on his not-so-good days.

 

"Earth to Killian," a voices says, pulling him out of his reverie.

 

At some point, he started snoozing on the job, but thanks to Emma, he's rubbing his face with a grimace, and his mind is foggy and blanked out. "Sorry, love," he grumbles, "was never fond of paperwork and I just spent hours going through some packages."

 

“We can agree on that. Anyways, I thought I could drop by to check on how you were doing, then maybe go get some food at Granny’s with you brother and Elsa if you’re up for it.”

 

He doesn’t bother contemplating on his choice, he nods agreeingly. “It’d be an honour, Swan. You can head out first, I’ll close up.”

 

“You sure?” she questions.

 

“Aye.” He grabs his jacket. “Unless you don’t trust me with locking the door which it is a task I am very capable of.”

 

She laughs and shakes her head, looking down at her phone. “Don’t be stupid - uh, yeah, just be quick. I’m totally up for some pie today and I’m starving for a good meal today.” Her eyebrows furrow in a sense of confusion, but she seems to ignore whatever’s bothering her, stuffing the phone back into her back pocket.

 

“No grilled cheese this time around?” he asks, reaching for the keys on his desk.

 

“Gotta give a girl a break, besides, grilled cheese is not the ideal food for this time of the day… and I forgot I was supposed to go out before you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Closely enough, everything turns out to be like a reunion. Killian’s arm is casually slung behind on the edge of the booth by the windows. Most of the talk is a little bit about the company and how it’s doing, and all this makes him forget the fact that Robin and Will are somewhere around town. The last time he heard from either of them was two days ago, but damn, with so much chaos going on, it difficult for him to keep track of every person coming and going through his life. For two years, only a small handful of people were every a constant reminder in his life, now there’s more for now because everyone has somehow decided it’s best to scare him or something… something like that, yes.

 

As much as he desires to continue their conversations while drinking his glass of beer, he notices how Emma’s been slightly quieter than usual, and he doesn’t see any tension in her posture, but she’s just been minding her own business for a lot longer. Unintentional or not, he sighs and puts his beer down, resting his hand on her thigh. When she glances over at him, he smiles reassuringly at her, sending over a silent question that she seems to receive loud and clear. Emma nods and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

 

Something’s bothering her.

 

“I’ll be right back, I need some fresh air,” she mumbles, excusing herself from the table, tearing her hand away from his as she slips out the diner, the jingling of the door an evident indication of her doing so.

 

“Is she alright?” Elsa asks, glancing between the door and Killian.

 

He sighs and shrugs. “Overwhelmed perhaps. She… has a hard past, worst than Liam and I when we grew up, so it’s difficult for her to fit around other people sometimes, especially the two of you because you’re family to me.” He slides out of the booth. “I’ll go check on her, if I don’t return, well, apologies for ditching, but I want her to be okay.”

 

“It’s fine, just... go make sure she’s fine, little brother.” There’s a sense of concern in his brother’s voice. Are they really putting up such a good act that they’re serious for each other? Hot damn.

 

“ _Younger_ brother, Liam, for gods sake,” he mutters, turning his back on them and leaving. There’s not definite breeze outside, but the temperature is a bit cool during the evening. “Swan!” he yells, seeing her pace back and forth, rubbing her forehead. “What’s the matter, love?”

 

She shakes her head. “Everything’s the matter, Killian! I just - watching you so happy with them… having real family like that, it’s _nice_ … it’s something I’ve never experienced before because as much as David was a brother to me, I never felt a sense of belonging anywhere.” She throws her hands up before it drops back down to her sides, closing her eyes. “I still feel like a child sometimes, to feel wanted and desired, I still question _why_ all the time, but the answer is always the same.” He’s about to interrupt, but he stays still, his eyes darting around to figure out the pain etched into her face. She concludes, “I’ve always been so… shortly put, _lost_.”

 

He doesn’t push her toward anything, and that word lost makes him want to cringe because he understands what she’s going through. Particularly, all he can do is stand there and let his mind absorb the words so he can create a reply. He pulls her into an embrace, her hands are cold, frozen even, from the chilly evening of the ending of autumn. Her grip on him tightens, as if she’s clinging onto him, clutching and holding as if she’ll lose him. Fucking hell is the right term for him, because as much as he’s acting out on being a fake boyfriend, he sure as hell wishes it could be real sometimes. Only sometimes.

 

“Swan, it’s normal,” he murmurs, “you have every right to feel that way, and I’m sorry that with them here it has triggered some feelings of yours. But remember what I told you that night; the stars will always guide you no matter where you are. I’ll be the stars to your night sky, love. Just remember you’ll never be lost again, nor alone.” He rocks back and forth a bit, her following along with his swing. “You’ll have me, and from what it seems like, Elsa has taken a good liking to you, along with my brother - and David of course.” He sighs into her blonde hair, the colour standing out from the dark veil surrounding them by the crack of night. “We’re all family around here, and you sure as hell cannot change that, darling.”

 

He can feel her shaky breath against his neck, the way her hands are around his waist and tight. Killian can nearly feel his face twist into a bit of guilt and pain. All of her insecurities have been laid out in front of her, making her sit in the most vulnerable state possible.

 

“I needed that. Thanks, Jones,” she gratefully thanks, pulling back from him.

 

“Back to surnames again, Swan?”

 

She groans and provides him a tight-lipped like smile. “Just let it go.”

 

“Now, _you_ are bloody freezing, let’s get back to Granny’s, that is unless you’d like to head back to the apartment for tonight?” he asks, taking her hands - yeah, _freezing_. This woman isn’t cold blooded, right? His thumb subconsciously rubs over her forehand, grazing the cold skin, and if it bothers her, she doesn’t say anything about it.

 

"No, no, I don't want to bail on you like a bad friend. Let’s go have some fun this time - darts maybe?” she insists, dragging him back toward Granny’s. “If you’re up for it.”

 

“I’m always up for a challenge, love. You’ll come begging me for help once you _lose_.” He’s confident, because by recalling the time they had back at the bar, she’s good, but she’s not good _enough_ to defeat him in a match.

 

She laughs, opening the door and tugging him inside. “Yeah, no. Begging’s a little overboard, the most I’ll do is just ask you for advice.”

 

“Whatever you say, Swan,” he teases, his eyes shifting over to see Liam and Elsa smiling at them. “Hey, you two want to play us in darts? Last time I recall, you were quite dominant in the game, Liam.”

 

“Have you improved since the last time we played?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

Liam grins. “I’m in.”

 

When they all pitch in for a game, Liam gets obliterated, like completely destroyed by Emma, and both Killian and Elsa are pretty much speechless at Liam’s lost. But, the stunned silence doesn’t last for too long because they all break apart and start laughing. Killian begins to mock his brother’s misfortune at losing because from what he can remember, he was always quite the competitive man when it comes to games with any sort of winning or losing.

 

But, between Killian and Emma, the battle is tight, too tight for comfort. He doesn’t know how many times he’s nearly dropped the dart out of his hands as his mouth is half-open staring at the progress she’s making. And god, it’s tense, it’s difficult, but he seems to pull through on his last shot which brings him to win just by a little bit. That gives him the pleasure and position for him to make her frustrated and angry again, because she did just lose to him after beating the hell out of Liam. “ _Perhaps next time_ ,” he murmurs next to her ear, and he does catch the way her ears flush into a faint red, and so does her cheeks for that matter.

 

But as time passes, they all get dreary and need their rest for the next day, especially for the two who’ll be out on patrol duty since David had requested himself for a day off to spend with Mary Margaret. Neither Killian nor Emma had the heart to decline him, so taken up on the job, it’s late, and they need to get to bed before they pass out. After a rather long bidding of ‘good night,’ Emma starts yawning a whole lot, but on her defence, so is he.

 

Understatement to say they’re tired, the moment the both of them get into the bedroom, without even flicking on a lamp, they drop to the bed simultaneously and laugh.

 

“Quite the evening, wasn’t it, Swan?”

 

“Yeah.” Yawning, she seemingly pushes herself up to sit properly on the edge of the bed. “Me killing Liam in darts was probably highlight of my day though considering you were speaking so highly about him.”

 

His eyelids slowly close. “He wasn’t that horrid back then, perhaps he’s lost his touch with the game.”

 

“Or it’s just that I’m better.”

 

He chuckles. “Or that.”

 

“Well, I think I’m going to go shower first… please yourself with Netflix or something until it’s your turn if you’d like.” The bed rises from her getting off of it, but he keeps where he is while he listens to the shuffle of her feet and the ruffle of her getting clothes. “Oh, and if you’re hungry - I saw you barely touch food and only drink - you can find yourself something in the cupboards.”

 

“You’re being quite generous, love, what’s the occasion?”

 

“No occasion. You’re the guest.” Then, she’s out the bedroom, into the hallway, to the washroom, and in the shower.

 

It does occur to him that he does need to shower, but he figures it’ll be better to do so in the morning considering he’s probably going to drop dead from fatigue if he stands under the wave of water blowing over his head anyways. Swiftly changing clothes, he slips into his side of the bed, gets comfy, and immediately falls under a nice slumber to the distant sound of water running, and some crickets from outside.

 

It’s been a couple of days since the last time he’s dreamed, and the last time he did dream, he barely could remember what had appeared while he was in such a drowned state. At one point, Milah appears faintly in the distance, only her voice echoing in the edges of his mind because there’s a certain other voice that recaptures his attention and sets him free into a world he’s never imagined previously. Swan. Although he can depict all the very possible messages going through him at the moment, the serenity and calming environment in this dreamworld of his is rather attractive at the moment. She’s taking over his mind slowly but surely, her body, her lips, her voice, her personality - all becoming a part of him in a way he’s never anticipated before.

 

But oh no, it doesn’t last for very long. Weather changes rapidly, the sunlight soon being shaded by dark clouds invading the blue sky, local squirrels retreating for shelter, droplets of rain starting to reach the pavement, making it two shades darker than the usual. And well, weather changing is fine with the both of them, but when they’re in the car, everything goes to hell in a quick change of events. He loses control of the wheel once the rain starts pouring, drowning them completely on the slippery road. All he knows is that he starts screaming for Emma, and then the next moment, he’s awake and in a dark room with Emma’s hand on his shoulder, staring into his soul.

 

It takes him a minute to catch his breath, to remember he’s okay and that it was merely a dream - or, well a dream turned _nightmare_. She doesn’t seem to question him about what it’s about, and he’s grateful she doesn’t because he does not want to pick the lock back and explain to her everything that entire situation that had been portrayed in his active little mind. She does say he was screaming for her, and her eyes show a lot more than mere curiosity, but given that she seems to know what he’s just gone through, she keeps her peace, kisses his cheek and smiles at him warmly. As simple as it is, he feels a lot more relieved as it is, and between the distance of their bodies, he takes her hand and holds onto it, interlacing his fingers with her before closing his eyes and falling asleep again.

 

At least this time around he isn’t dreaming of something ridiculous and frightening. Losing Emma is not an option, it’s not something he’ll ever be able to handle because she means more to him than anything in the world nowadays. She’s been a constant, and stable friend in his life for the past two years ongoing, letting her go, losing her will reopen a new dark void in his heart. Losing her will mean letting Dave down, letting Mary Margaret down, letting all of Storybrooke down. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, and he’ll do all he can, put in 110% of an effort to keep her safe, all the while letting her be in control and giving her the space she needs when she requests for it. Besides being stubborn herself, she likes making her own decisions instead of others making it for her, so for once, personal space both mentally and physically will need to be enforced on his part for the sake of her.

 

The room is no longer dark when he awakens, but from the sounds of it, it appears to be raining outside, and the birds are apparently happy about it. Well, what a day for David to get his break while Emma and Kilian do all the little bits and pieces of not-too-important work around town. When he shifts his head over slightly, Emma is curled up next to him, and _fuck_ , he doesn’t have the heart to wake her up. Instead, he carefully slips out of bed to grab some clothes and go take the shower he had missed last night to make up for it. Showers are nice, but they put you in that state where you start thinking about life, or anything for that matter.

 

In all of his lifetime glory, he’s never felt like this before, not with Milah, but with Emma. And sodding hell if he’s this smitten over a woman, because he’s not having retractions now, not while he’s starting to figure out there’s maybe something more between them. Perhaps something with light the spark between them soon, whether it be accidental or purposeful, he hopes something can truly bring them together. For once, he doesn’t want to stomp out the idea and break the flames into ashes. After seeing her eyes flaring with worry last night, he’s not sure he can do that again without seeing something else between them, without having it be a bit more official and real.

 

Thunder strikes outside, though it’s a very distant and muffled sound, covered by the chirps of birds. Even through the flow of the shower water hitting the tub, natures callings are just a force to be reckoned with.

 

By the time Killian is all cleaned up and out of the washroom, he bumps into Emma and nearly makes her fall back again the wall, but he wraps his arm around her waist on reflex and pulls her against him. “Oh, I’m sorry, love. I should’ve watched where I was going,” he says, though he’s glad he stopped there because he’s at a lost for words at how close they are to each other.

 

“It’s okay,” she huffs out, smiling up at him. “You, uh, look refreshed,” she stammers, biting at her lower lip.

 

He grins, nodding in agreement with her observation. “Clean and fresh.” He lets his arm around her go, dropping it back down to his side. “Look, I apologize for waking you up last night, I really hadn’t expected to have another sudden run-in like that again.”

 

“Killian, it’s fine,” she assures him. “If you think I’m going to bother you about it or something, well, I’m not. I used to have nightmares all the time, I still do on certain nights, but I’ve managed somehow to keep them at a low.” She starts pushing him out of the way. “Now move, I need to brush my teeth.”

 

It’s as if he feels his face literally drop and relax with the way she assures him that everything will be okay, that nothing will change between them.

 

It’s a new day, he can do this. He can keep his act up.

 

But for how long?

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Rain doesn’t stop for the day, they continue to drive through town though. At some point, they ended up stopping to eat and grab a bit of extra caffeine for the day. Running into Will was convenient however, Robin was no where to be seen by then. Elsa and Liam were at Granny’s too, enjoying the warming little diner filled with a bunch of others. But, Killian and Emma are out of there before they can even say anything more than a greeting for the day.

 

They’re sitting idly in the car, the both of them drinking their coffee while listening to the sound of water hit the windshield in front of them. Everything’s going quite well, besides the sombre mood of setting placed by the rainy weather, but besides that, the both of them are quite happy for the day. It’s good to be happy, it’s been difficult for the both of them, especially emotionally draining for Emma since she’s already spilled her entire story onto a plate and handed it to him, and then felt so lost last night while they were with Liam and Elsa. She’s gone through so much hell, he can’t stand having to think of blaming her, or getting angry at her when she expects him to be.

 

But, they continue on their drive around, they’re just about done anything. But, when things take a turn for the worse, he’s hopeless and can’t do a single thing. The sound of the screeching tires, then the warm feeling of blood on him, seeing the crimson colour all over his hands. Everything is blurry, a bloody haze if you ask him, and when he tries to fight it, tries to see what’s happened, he can’t. But there’s a muted calling, and it’s Emma? He can’t tell, everything’s so hard for him to pull together, to put the pieces together. His brain feels empty though, something he can’t understand because everything happened at such a quick pace, he’s barely keeping his body up to date at the moment. He feels pain, but he can’t cry out about it. He feels awake, but he can’t get himself to open his dropped eyelids. He feels a hand over his arm, shaking him, but he feels so tired, it’d be nice to just go to bed.

 

“Killian, please.” The pleading sounds so broken, sad, lost, like a cough. Emma. “Brother, Emma!” Is that Liam? Yeah, it’s him. “Bloody hell, where are the paramedics?” It’s Will.

 

There’s a hell of a lot of stinging pain in his left hand right now, at least he thinks it’s his left. Besides that, his head is pounding and his - left - shoulder is burning as well. The last thing he recalls is the car swerving off to the side, the eruption of the airbag and then falling forward. By then, all he knows is shattered glass and the faint pitter-patter of rain on his skin. When his eyes finally open - barely open to be precise - everything feels so off, he feels disoriented. The rain feels soothing on his skin, but the searing pain going through his left arm promptly makes his eyes shut again; it feels like a scorching fire, shortly being put out by the cold rain dropping onto his body.

 

“Keep applying pressure on his wounds!”

 

“Killian!”

 

“Sheriff Swan, you need to come with us. You’re injured too.”

 

But he knows he’s losing blood, and he can’t stay conscious forever, because shortly after all the yelling starts dying down and he feels his body being moved around, he can’t help but start to fall into the consuming darkness. It’s calling for him, declaring Killian Jones as the next victim.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everything feels so fuzzy, and he sure as hell is confused. Now that he’s fully awake, he can feel the pain in his arm, and _fuck_ that hurts like hell. It stings, burns, it feels like pure agony, and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is a forced groan. For the briefest moment, he manages to check his surroundings, and he can surely recognize it’s a hospital. He’s been here before, so it’s not the first visit he’s had to this dreadful place. God awful place because it’s where he lost Milah.

 

Someone checks on him, and he has no inkling of a clue of who does, but it’s most likely a nurse, and all he can do is lay there helplessly because his arm is aching and gnawing, causing him pain that doesn’t stop.

 

His eyes are half-open when the door opens again, and it’s Liam and Elsa. He notices the relaxation of their posture and the relief on their faces when they walk in.

 

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

 

Killian groans, grumbling, “Painful.”

 

Liam smiles, probably glad that his brother can speak and still be somewhat a stubborn arse. “Expected.”

 

The urge to sit up is strong, but with the hardly endurable pain in his arm and the thumping inside of his head, he can’t register much to do anything himself. And of course Victor is his doctor, just like the usual of course. He comes in and says some random crap, not really paying attention to any of it. Muttered something about pain meds, and then he’s gone out of the room, Liam and Elsa following behind to give him rest. It doesn’t occur to him that Emma isn’t with him at the moment, because with so much going on his his brain, he can hardly think straight - or it’s just that discomfort he’s feeling that causes him to be off the charts in doing anything more than getting time to recover.

 

For the briefest moment, he swears he hears some movement, but the pain meds make him woozy and confused. All he can do is sleep, and sleep, and more sleep, and for once he actually wants to be out of the bed and not be ‘sleeping his arse off’ as Emma would put it - Emma. _Fuck_ , Emma, he doesn’t even know how she’s doing, where she is, if she’s here, because he doesn’t know a bloody thing actually. Despite being knowledgeable of his own injuries, he doesn’t have the brightest clue about Emma. But if he recalls correctly, he could hear her voice before he had passed out. Huh - weird.

 

The next time he wakes up, he finds her sitting next to him in a chair, her face cut and bruised, but the rest of her seems fine. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sleeping, but her hand is holding his lightly. He twitches slightly which causes her to sir from her sleep, her eyes quickly opening the moment she seems to realize he’s awake.

 

“Oh god, Killian, god, I - I’m so sorry, I did this and now you’re here and in pain, and fuck,” she stutters, locking eyes with him.

 

Hearing the hurting in her voice, as if everything she’s done she regrets makes him crack a little bit more on the inside. “Love, it’s okay,” he rasps. In an attempt to smile, he can barely do that too, his entire body is not very cooperative. “Not… your… fault,” he breathes out.

 

“You took the bad side, I came out with barely anything.” She claps onto his non-injured hand with both of hers. “You - you were so close to dying, I thought you weren’t gonna make it back there,” she murmurs, closing her eyes.

 

“Hey.” She opens her eyes and looks at him. “I excel at surviving.” And this time, he manages to smile at her, which leaves her with a breathless laugh, smiling a little bit too.

 

“You’re still in pain, aren’t you?”

 

“My arm?” He glances down at his arm in a cast. “Aye.”

 

“Robin and Will have been freaking out, you know? Liam and Elsa left earlier because Elsa was having hormonal issues with being pregnant and all. David’s been waiting out too. God, everyone just wanted you to wake up, and they all pushed me inside when they noticed how… destroyed I seemed.” She sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared of anything in my life. I mean, yeah we might be fake dating, but god, you’re too good of a _friend_ to be lost. I lost everyone… I can’t lose you _too_.”

 

“Well, love, you don’t have to worry about that.”

 

She scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re good at putting up a fight? Surviving? Being a stubborn ass like me?” He just raises a brow at her. She rolls her eyes. “I know that by now.”

 

"Bloody hell, everything hurts, Swan. Can you call in Whale?"

 

She stands up and nods. "You probably need more pain meds. I'll be back later, then. And don't think for a second to argue with him because you're not in a state to argue. Or work. You’re bedridden, take my word on that, Jones.”

 

“Yes, m’lady,” he mutters, shutting his eyes.

 

The next couple of hours go by at a blur, he got injected with something and he doesn’t remember what, but it’s supposedly all the medication he’s been put on to ease the pain and let him rest. Whale says something about some physical therapy to regain the movement in his hand again because his arm was completely trashed and got buried under a part of the car. Just listening about the accident makes him shudder and get the goosebumps. Just imagining it makes him wonder how bad he must’ve scared everyone. And how coincidental it’s while everyone just started reappearing in his life as well.

 

Each morning becomes some sort of routine. Everyone’s delayed their departure or at least decision to depart since they want to make sure Killian’s okay. Liam visits with Elsa every other afternoon, Emma shows up every morning with David, and Robin and Will make it in during the evening during the available visiting hours.

 

When he’s finally dismissed, able to return (let’s just say physical therapy was the epitome of pain and boredom) back to the apartment, Emma’s the one who comes to pick him up. Where? To her apartment as anticipated. He’s never felt so weak before, even after the therapy, and when she keeps an arm around his waist because let’s be honest, his shoulder is still in pain - at least it’s not his entire arm anymore. At points, his hand is still difficult for him to maneuver, as if he has to turn it on before using it otherwise his body doesn’t specifically react to her nerves. The scars are still all over his left arm in general, and he can’t even look at it himself within cringing up and remembering the pain he had before.

 

Apparently, Emma’s been given a specific set of instructions on how to handle him if anything is to go haywire, and he hopes to hell nothing goes haywire. Each day really does suck though, but it’s better than being in a hospital. Now, he’s just in Emma’s bed for half of the day so he doesn’t overexert his shoulder, while the rest of the day is getting casual exercise to build him back up slowly.

 

So he doesn’t exactly like being put in bed, and he’s not a workaholic either, but he wants to do something else, _needs_ to do something, but it’s what happens when you’re a victim of a car accident. And Emma doesn’t approve, and she insists he needs to keep to light activities, and even him and his whining doesn’t get him that far away from the bed or out of the apartment. “Can’t keep a man trapped forever, love,” he usually reasons, but she rolls her eyes and protests against with some witty remark which leaves him grinning and forgetting to respond.

 

It’s really no doubt that they become even closer within the weeks of his recovery (if that’s even possible). Getting an arm crushed under a car and making it out with it still intact can be considered an accomplishment on his list, a really bloody one.

 

One night, he can’t really sleep. He’s staring at the darkened ceiling, listening to the breathing next to him. There are sudden flashbacks of what had happened the day of the accident. Everything’s a quick flash before his eyes though, but the mere thought of it making it’s small appearance hinders his chance of recovering well, and it’s only the start of it as well. He nearly whimpers when he recalls screaming for Emma but had got cut off when the car slide and flipped onto his side, or when he remembers the impact his face had with the airbag, and the shattered glass that came shortly after. She must notice him struggling to gasp for air, the memories far enrapturing him into something he can’t even escape himself.

 

She repeatedly tells him to breathe, take deep breaths, pay attention to her face. He tries. Killian’s lungs are screaming for air, and he’s begging his own body to breathe, take heavier and larger breaths to calm himself. Her hand drops from his right arm, reaching over him to turn the lamp on. “Come on, Killian, pull through this. I know you’re stronger than a couple of nightmares returning to haunt you,” she mutters, her thumb coming back to brush over his cheek. “It’s all fine, alright? Nothing can hurt you now, not if I have a say in it.”

 

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words promptly die on his tongue as he’s far too mesmerized by the courageous look in her eyes, something shining behind those green orbs. “Thank you, Swan,” he breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut as he regains his breath control again. He’s can feel the anguish and pain disappear, all the pain gone, even if it’s for the slightest moment.

 

“Not a problem. Do you… do you want to talk about it? Or sleep?”

 

He sighs and opens his eyes again, his eyes immediately locking with hers. “I - … can we talk?”

 

Emma smiles, nodding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here.”

 

“It was… was more than than a nightmare, Swan. Before the car had gone out of control - that was the scene that showed up this time. And I was afraid of losing you, gods, Emma, I didn’t know what had happened, I was quite frightened when it all happened in the blink of an eye.” He licks his lips, shaking his head. “I’ve lost a loved one too before, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, or if you’d have lost me,” he says, his voice dying down slowly.

 

“Look, Killian, whatever it is you’re feeling, you can overcome it, alright? I wasn’t as injured as you, but I sure as hell was being scared to death seeing you covered in blood and trapped under the car on your end.” She sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. “Besides, I think it’s an accomplishment for the both of us. A trophy, the recognition of survival, don’t you think?”

 

“Aye, I suppose so.”

 

She smiles. “Anything else on your mind?” she asks.

 

“No.” He yawns bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. “I’d want to bother you some more, but I’ve already woken you and I’m tired too.”

 

“Stupid,” she mutters, pulling at the light switch. “You’ll be better in no time.” She kisses his cheek and pulls the sheets over her shoulders, getting comfy at his side. “Now sleep.”

 

Despite the pain that still wretchedly strikes at his heart every chance it gets, he smiles. “I will, love.” _At least I’ll try._

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s hard for him to handle being around everyone again once he starts getting better. No use of his left arm for awhile though, so doing everyday tasks gets a notch harder than it used to be. And he’s practically been in solitude for so long, he barely handles all the chatter and noise around him. Everyone is gathered in the Nolan’s loft, and it’s not the most spacious of all, but everyone manages to fit in there and enjoy the company. Now, Killian on the other hand, is half asleep on the couch, watching everyone have a good time and talk. As much as he’s desired to get out of the apartment, he didn’t mean coming to a get together like this while he’s still on medication sometimes. It makes him drowsy, and Emma was adamant on him taking it - now, he sees it wasn’t such a good idea at all.

 

Emma’s keeping him awake enough though, enough that he’s aware of what’s going on around him, and enough to be aware of when he’ll want to go back to the apartment and sleep. Although he’s keeping his participation to a minimum, he frequents exercising his hand to get it back to it’s original state. It’s still a bit cut and bruised, but it’s healing quite well.

 

Being around Emma feels so easy, something he hasn’t felt in ages. Depending on her to take care of him, it feels so domestic, which is another thing he hasn’t had much of a feel for after Liam. Tending to himself is not much of an issue to him, but at other moments, he feels like he’s burdening Emma with much more than what she deserves. As much as he does love the fact she’s willing to help him and guide him through this stage of his life, it does strike him to know that she could be doing other things rather than dealing with him and his issues. But she doesn’t. And he feels bad that he’s taking time away from her that could be spent on other things.

 

“Come on, Killian, let’s go,” she urges, nudging him gently to grab his attention. “You’re about to pass out.”

 

He groans as he stands up, swaying on the balls of his feet before she stabilizes him with an arm around his waist, pulling his safe arm around her shoulders. “‘M tired,” he mumbles, his eyes flickering between her and the others who are secretly laughing at him. Even he can tell that out.

 

“I know you are,” she mutters, leading him toward the door.

 

He staggers on his feet, but getting the car still instills some fear into him regardless of his loopy little state.

 

When she’s in the driver’s side, inserting the key in, she rests a hand on top of his, a tilt of her lips reassuring him everything’s perfectly fine. As much as he’d like to believe that, it’s still difficult for him to recover from such trauma still, but he nods slowly and feels the rumble of the car under him. At least the car that flipped was one of the extra cruisers and not her bug, because he knows how much he loves that yellow bug of hers.

 

By the time they’re back in the apartment in her bedroom, he gets into the bed quickly and falls asleep immediately without a second to waste. A faint bit of laughter is heard, but he cannot make it out as he falls deeper and deeper into a dark slumber.

 

In due time, he’s back to his original state, well at least close to it. He can work again, and sometimes he feels like his body locks up and freezes, or sometimes there’s just a flash of a nightmare before it’s gone, but it’s quick enough for him to get over it, and if he can’t, Emma helps him without hesitance. Rain is slowly not becoming much of a regular weather report anymore, it’s always snow since it’s nearing December, and that means freezing cold temperatures outside.

 

His collar is popped up, and he keeps his mouth hidden behind it. Just his breaths coming out and in from his nose crystalize the air and turn it into a faint white before it disappears into the air. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and even that can’t keep his hands warm. He needs to find some gloves.

 

Weather has delayed plane flights too, which means Liam and Elsa are not going to end up going back for the holidays, and that’s precisely the reason why Killian is outside strolling on by the docks at the moment. The loud swish of waves of water zone him out, makes him think and develop ideas on what to do. He never intended for their fake relationship to drag on for over a month, and he nearly feels completely guilty for having her get too caught up in something she could have clearly denied in the first place. He sighs helplessly, looking out to the open sea.

 

Judging by the way things are currently going, everyone is going to end up around for the holidays, and to be quite honest, he’s never been fond of it. Besides, who cares about Christmas? He doesn’t mind attending a party, but having the entire deal for presents was never a major section of his life, and so he’s never really thought much more about it.

 

“Hey.”

 

He stops on his heels and turns around to meet Emma. “Hello, love.”

 

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing cold,” she asks.

 

“Just… thinking,” he responds, looking out to the ocean. With winter being here, it’s going to be awhile before he can take her or anyone sailing for that matter. He’s longing for the sea again, even though he’s chosen a different path down life.

 

“Lurking around the docks and brooding - interesting combo,” she states. She waves her hand. “Come on, let’s head to Granny’s and we can have some hot cocoa.”

 

He smiles, but it probably shows up to be a bit sad more than intended. Killian walks toward her and offers her his arm, which she shakes her head and mumbles, “Always the gentleman,” before he really does grin happily.

 

Yeah, he’s definitely falling for her -

 

 _Fuck_ , fuck, _oh_ _fuck_ , he’s falling for her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you seen all the BTS spoiler pictures? Because I'm not sure if I'm alive or not anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

In spite of his fear for getting into cars still (sometimes), he opts to walking or running around town instead. Of course it’s highly inconvenient, but he doesn’t complain - often than not though. Emma tries to get him to face his fears, and he tries to too, but even by trying, he can’t fully push it away or get rid of it. The memory of the car crash will always be in his mind somewhere, and he knows that applies to her too, but apparently she’s been taking it far well off than he has been. Rarely does he find himself complaining about her attempts though, he _knows_ she’s trying. But saying that he doesn’t find himself complaining to her verbally, doesn’t mean he doesn’t get annoyed mentally.

 

Sometimes they argue, but it’s never over anything big, and even when he does argue against her, or she argues against him, they make up quite quickly because for some reason they’re just... _good_ at that. And where do they find themselves after a fight? Well, they just don’t talk to each other, giving the silent treatment like five year olds who don’t get their favourite toy.

 

And nothing ever gets better when they grow closer and closer (even though that’s virtually impossible by now) since they work together all the time, see each other for 99% of the day, and have to fake date at the same time. That’s a pretty busy schedule, but being as it is, he doesn’t complain about that. What he does want to complain about is the fact he’s really, _really_ starting to like her more than a friend, and that’s bloody impossible because he can’t be hers, she can’t be his, and _damn_ it he’s really screwed now. There’s no turning back - he’s _stuck_ and in this for the long haul.

 

So, let’s see, it took him a little over an entire month to discover his infatuation with Emma Swan, always walking around blindly as if he’s never considered it in a lifetime. He is majorly fucked.

 

Now… _this_ calls for some time with David.

 

“So, you called for me?” David asks, arriving to the station just like Killian requested.

 

“Aye. I’m in a little bit of a crisis, Dave,” he admits vaguely, scratching behind his ear. “I like Swan.”

 

“As a friend? Yes, I know.”

 

Killian groans. “Dave, I mean more than that.”

 

“Oh, you’re talking about _that_ ,” he responds, emphasizing the last word. It’s a bit of a tease, but David shrugs. “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to realize you like her more than a friend, Killian. I mean, why do you think everyone buys your act so easily?”

 

Good point, but he’s going to act dumb so he can get Dave to spill everything for him. “I don’t know.”

 

“Neither of you are really acting anymore,” David states firmly. “Emma likes you too, at least I _think_ she does, and it’s fairly obvious that you two have good chemistry considering everyone believes you two are really dating. Robin and Will don’t question it, neither does Liam or Elsa. Honestly, if you didn’t tell me you’re faking it, I probably would have fallen into it as well.”

 

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, rubbing his face. It explains the ease he has with her all the time, or how her smiles always brighten his day. “What do I do? I can’t risk it, Dave... I - I know she runs when things get serious or out of hand.” Damn, he’s going to hyperventilate because realizing that he likes her more than a friend is draining him completely, and the last thing he wants to do is break promises of never hurting her.

 

“Confront her about it when you think it’s a good time. If she comes to me for any help about her own feelings toward you, I’ll notify you so you’ll know if she’s ready to take it or not,” David offers, leaning back in his chair. “Honestly, at first I didn’t think any of this was a good idea, but the way you two act and look at each other are beyond the boundary of _friends_.”

 

Killian inhales a deep breath, letting it out in a loud huff. “How long?”

 

“What?”

 

“How long do you reckon by the time she’s going to be able to accept the truth?”

 

David shrugs cluelessly. “Could take days... or weeks.”

 

“I’ll be patient.”

 

That is if there isn’t another bloody car accident waiting for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day goes by like a slow burn. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep everything at an all time low, but he’s glad he’s able to. His feelings only seem to grow, and it’s hard to resist any of it considering it’s what his heart wants.

 

Another week and it’s almost Christmas, which means Mary Margaret completely overdoing herself when it comes to the holidays. Granny’s finally has vacant rooms, which means Liam and Elsa moves out, and Killian finally gets his own bed again. Except, the thing is he feels disappointed because he’s going to miss getting into bed and exchanging stories of hilarity with Emma. He’s going to miss falling asleep on the couch after a long day of work, and unwinding by watching something on Netflix. He’s going to miss making her a grilled cheese in the morning, or brewing up some of his own coffee for her. He’s going to miss a lot of things.

 

The first night back at his own apartment, his bed feels large and empty. He longs for an Emma Swan next to him so he can fall asleep.

 

At work, if she feels the same, she definitely knows how to cover it up, or completely be oblivious to a non-reciprocated feeling. He feels like something dropped on his heart, but he’s able to keep himself on top of things and act like everything is perfectly normal.

 

Without the heart to ever decline invitations to the party at Granny’s for Christmas, he accepts it humbly, but has something else in plan.

 

On the night of the party, he doesn’t get ready to do anything. In fact, he presses himself to stay in the apartment, and to be honest, he’s been feeling a bit under the weather recently too. Perhaps he needs to wear some thicker layers when it’s below average outside, or it’s just him completely overreacting. He yawns, padding into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of rum. Celebrating alone is not something out of the norm, so why not?

 

His phone lights up on the coffee table in front of him, and as he reaches it, he thinks about why he should even bother checking.

 

It’s a text from Emma.

 

_Emma: Where are you?_

_Killian: I should have called, but I’m not feeling too well._

_Emma: Are you seriously sick? Of all this time you get sick now?_

_Killian: Hardly preventable now, isn’t it? Look, you enjoy yourself at the party with my brother and Elsa. Besides, Will should be making a drunk appearance any time by now._

_Emma: Yes, I totally don’t look weird without my boyfriend here._

_Killian: Tell them the unforeseen circumstances, I’m sure they’ll understand._

_Emma: Fine. But do you need anything?_

 

He sighs, staring at the screen while formulating his response.

 

_Killian: No, nothing as of yet. Don’t worry about me, love, I’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow morning, and perhaps I can make up my lack of company then. I’ll call you if I do need something that I’m unable to handle._

_Emma: Okay, well hope you get better... and oh - Will’s here._

 

He chuckles, shaking his head. Will is an imbecile, all he hopes for is that he doesn’t do something over the top and ruin the entire town gathering. He won’t be so welcome if Granny realizes how horrible he can be when he’s drunk - a provocateur.

 

_Killian: Good luck with him._

_Emma: Well crap. Call me if you need anything, okay?_

_Killian: I will._

 

Carefully setting his phone back down next to the quarter empty rum bottle, he decides to take a hot shower. Perhaps the hotness will be able to cure whatever he’s feeling at the moment, whatever sickness is sneaking up being him.

 

When that attempt doesn’t work, he decides to head to bed, hoping it’ll be able to flush out the throbbing in the side of his head.

 

When that doesn’t work, because trust him, he had lay in bed for an hour before finally giving up on any rest. The more he moved the worst the pain got, and the only possible reason is the car crash and his injury, but he doesn’t recall ever getting this bad of a headache, let alone any actually. He shuffles back into the living room, hitting the call button when he finds Emma’s number. Problem here is that she’s not picking up. It continues to lead to voicemail, and he doesn’t know if she’s turned her phone off, or she’s unaware of his calling.

 

Numerous attempts at failing leads him to calling Dave instead. He picks up after the second ring, and Killian notifies him of the pain in his head.

 

“You sure it’s not a regular headache?”

 

“Definitely sure, Dave. The pain gets worse by the minute, it’s no regular headache,” he mutters.

 

“Okay, Emma’s going to come get you. Mary Margaret is currently fussing about something and I can’t leave her alone otherwise she’s going to anger someone eventually,” David explains over the chatter in the background. “Oh no, I have to go. But Emma’s on her way.”

 

“Sorry for interrupting the celebration, but much thanks for your help.”

 

He laughs. “Not a problem. See you soon.” And he hangs up first.

 

He feels like he’s burdening Emma again. She doesn’t deserve this treatment, she doesn’t have to take care of him, but it’s on reflex to ask for her because he’s been getting closer to her more and more. Plus, if he’s going to reason with himself, she did tell him to call her if he needed anything, and this is considerably urgent concerning his health.

 

There mustn’t be a thing called knocking first because she walks into his apartment, and he doesn’t remember her having any access to it, but he’s not going to bother asking a question when she’s the one showering him with inquiries. There’s nothing to say, well, nothing to say in detail, but by the time he’s at the hospital, Victor has to do a scan to see if anything has damaged his brain. Highly doubting himself on that, he just abides by everything because the pain seems to subside and return at unexpected times.

 

Now he remembers how much he hates hospitals. It makes him uncomfortable the entire time as he lays in bed, waiting for whatever results the man is waiting for.

 

Waiting for the results means making conversation, and Emma’s the one sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs. “Swan, I’d like to ask why your phone was off.”

 

She looks up from the ground. “What?”

 

“You didn’t pick up any of my calls earlier,” he elaborates, stretching his neck.

 

Emma’s lips part but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches into her pocket, frantically searching for her phone, but comes out empty handed. Her eyes close as her face drops at whatever she seems to remember. “Will,” is what she angrily mutters, shaking her head. “Guess he stole my phone as one of his drunken charades.”

 

“Okay, good news!” Victor exclaims, bursting into the room. “There’s no physical damage, but I think you’ve been stressing yourself.”

 

“But he hasn’t been doing anything physically demanding,” Emma speaks up, standing from her chair.

 

“Not physically, but perhaps mentally. Emotional stress can be common, and Killian probably has been overworking his brain with his own emotions.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “With the addition of the car accident awhile back, it’s probably working together and causing him his headache. The more he thinks about it, the worst it gets.”

 

“I’m going to be quite adamant that I haven’t been emotionally stressing myself,” Killian says for himself, shaking his head gently as he states so. It’s a lie, he knows he’s on something, but there’s no way he’s going to tell Emma that yet.

 

“Have you forgotten that I went to college with you? I know lies,” Victor claims nonchalantly, his eyes flickering between him and Emma.

 

“I agree,” she inputs. “I’ve worked with you for almost three years now and I’m a walking lie-detector, and right now, it’s going off the charts with you, Killian.” She sighs, glancing over at Victor. “Can you leave us alone for a bit, Whale?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Oh dear god, he’s bloody screwed now. Lying has never worked out before, there’s not a single thing he can do about that miserably failure of a plan. “Swan, just - now is _not_ the time to discuss this,” he hisses as a warning, shaking his head. “I fear about you.”

 

“How about not making decisions for me, Killian?" she retorts. “This is your _health_ we’re talking about, I’m going to worry about you either way.”

 

“I don’t know what else to say,” he responds quietly.

 

She sighs, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re holding something back.”

 

“Swan, listen to me for once! In the long run this is going to be the best for you,” he snaps, frustration building inside of him.

 

“So what if you’re gone, huh? If you’re gone, is _that_ going to be the best for me? You once had that nightmare where you didn’t know yourself what would happen if I had lost you, or if you lost me - it still stands as the truth!” she retaliates, raising her voice in anger. “I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I don’t like be lied to. Tell me on your own time, sure, but lying to me about it, saying that there’s “nothing else to say” is a _lie_ and I’m not going to sit here and take it from the guy who deserves more than whatever,” she waves her hand around trying to get her point across, “ _this_ is!”

 

“Fine, I’m not exactly being forthright about everything and I have my own reasons for it, but to hell and back I’m trying to prevent something neither of us would be prepared for,” he barks back. There’s no time for him to process the words she says, nor the words that tumble out of his mouth either. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes.

 

She groans, rolling her eyes judgingly. “You know, being honest is far better than keeping secrets, but since you’re so insistent about it - whatever. David will drop by later, I need to go get myself a drink,” she says, tugging on her black leather gloves.

 

He’s not going to apologize for what he’s said because everything is very much of the truth, but he is annoyed that she’s walking away, but given no other choice, he lets her walk out the door anyways. He hasn’t even realized he’s been holding his breath until now, letting it out shakily. Clenching his eyes shut, he curses at himself internally knowing he’s probably screwed his relationship up with her now, breaking her trust slowly by holding back the truth from her.

 

This woman is infuriating him with her abilities to try and pry information out of him, it’s a talent of hers, but he’s learned to resist giving away any sort of major clue. Besides the “prevent something neither of us would be prepared for” part though. That statement gives a lot away.

 

Harbouring his own anger, he gets out of the hospital bed he’s been casually laying on, passing by Victor’s office and offering him a thanks. The man tells him to keep his state low for awhile, holding his gaze knowing it’s something between him and Emma. Although Victor can be a complete dunce, he’s smart and knows things that no one else can get a pick on. So, being the incognito man he is, he tends to keep secrets at the least. That’s one of the few things Killian likes about Victor Whale.

 

Pushing his luck through the darkness of the night, he pushes his hands deeper into the pockets of his thick leather jacket, his hands forming into fists when he casually passes by the well-lit and decorated Granny’s. He catches the smiles and laughter inside through the unshielded window, and casts a second glance before he shifts his feet back toward the place. There’s no reason he should ignore the celebration, so he might as well make the best of it and at least drop by to give some wishes to the people.

 

When the door opens, most people quickly glance over their shoulders to look over at him. He brings a hand up and waves with a generous smile, slipping past a couple of people. David rams into him accidentally and gives him a confused look.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the hospital? Emma told me to come check on you.”

 

“It’s nothing to be worried about, Dave,” he calmly assures his boss and friend, quickly flashing a smile at him as he grabs a cookie off one of the plates. “Where’s Swan?”

 

“She went home I think.” David shrugged, taking a sip out of his beer.

 

“Right,” he murmurs, chewing the cookie. “Well, I think I’ll go talk to the others for a bit before I head off as well.”

 

David nods with a smile. “Good idea.”

 

“See you tomorrow, mate.”

 

“Oh, and Killian?”

 

He stops in his tracks. “Aye?”

 

“Go talk to her.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s practically on paid leave at the moment. Not driving for patrol, and having no cases to inspect or deal with, he’s got nothing much to do. Emma and him haven’t talked for two days by now. Only greetings were uttered between the two of them, and some small smiles. Liam’s noticed by now, but he doesn’t seem to say much besides giving the subtle hints of settling whatever’s happened between the two of them. His mood hasn’t turned him completely sour yet, so perhaps that’s a good thing.

 

Between the unspoken agreement of theirs to keep a distance for awhile, he’s not utterly pained about it, but figures it’s better anyways. Sometimes there needs to be separation before you get completely fed up, right?

 

Usually with his winding temper, he’d by demanding himself to go make up with her about their argument, because their relationship is already fragile as it is, and it’s not getting any better. In fact, he’d consider it getting worse now. The little bits and pieces of stolen glances and lip biting in silent frustration doesn’t go amiss between either of them, and even David knows that haven’t discussed the issue. To be honest, Killian doesn’t have the heart in him to discuss it anyways. It’s not a topic he’s willing to elaborate his defensiveness on.

 

In other news, Robin and Will had decided upon staying. Regina has been a little less moody ever since Robin’s entrance into her life, so perhaps it’s a good thing. Will has seemingly taken a liking to librarian, Belle. Apparently Storybrooke is a place to find a woman you like, even with the very little residents in town anyways.

 

“Soooo, when are you going to talk to Emma?” Ruby asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

 

Staring down at the steaming hot chocolate with cinnamon - fuck, _her_ favourite - he shrugs without any specific answer. “No idea.”

 

“Clearly the both of you are in pain,” she states, wiping a table. “Yet you’re avoiding each other,” she rounds the corner, “like one of you have the plague or something.”

 

“Have you considered maybe one of us have contracted the plague?” he counters back sarcastically, threading his fingers through the loop of the mug in front of him. “I mean, it would definitely explain a lot of our recent ignorance with-”

 

“Just stop,” Ruby interrupts, glaring at him. “You think this is a game, Killian? I mean, maybe it was, but it isn’t now.”

 

“So I’ve been told,” he mutters into his hot chocolate, relishing the taste.

 

“If you don’t talk to her soon or at least get everything sorted out, I’m definitely going to have you contract the plague.”

 

“How wonderful,” he fishes out a five dollar bill for her, “because if it can end the pain, I would gladly get infected by the plague.”

 

Ruby laughs. “You know _fixing_ the problem will also end the pain, right? You told her something about it “being the best in the long run” and I reckon doing whatever you two are doing now will not benefit either of you in the long run.” She’s got a point - _of course_ she has a point. “Besides, you two are far too cute for each other and your distance is killing me too.”

 

“Ruby,” Killian whines, “can you stop?”

 

She scoffs. “Not until you go solve everything.”

 

“Why do I have to be the one to fix it? Why can’t Swan confront me about it?”

 

“You know how she is with opening up her heart, or having these type of conversations. From what she’s told me, she’s already done that at least three times within the past two months with you, and that’s the most she’s ever done in comparison to five years with anyone else,” Ruby explains Emma’s side of things, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. “You know she’s tough, but she’s stubborn and also scared about what to do. She doesn’t know how to… well, approach these types of situations without screwing up. And hey, you might as well bring the gentleman you out and apologize or whatever.”

 

“I’m always a gentleman, lass,” he mutters. “But you’ve definitely got a point about her and her emotions.” He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’ll be back.” He gets off the stool and pivots his feet toward the door.

 

“Go get ‘em, Killy.”

 

He freezes on par with that nickname. “Don’t you _dare_ call me that again, Ruby, or I swear to god I will have Victor come and pummel you himself,” he turns and threatens, pointing a finger at her with raised eyebrows.

 

She seems to stand up straight, panic flooding into her eyes. “Crap, you know about us?”

 

“Oh, I know _plenty_ of things, love.”

 

“Damn it.”

 

The quiet curse has him smirking to himself as he saunters out of the diner. Taking the phone out of his pocket, he sends on simple message to Emma.

 

_Killian: We need to talk._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. The BTS pic of his hand on her cheek? Tearing my heart to pieces right now.


	12. Chapter 12

_Killian: We need to talk._

 

It was the last message sent before he started to go search for her. The first place he checks is the station, but that comes up quite empty and as a failure. The second is her apartment, and if she’s there, she’s not answering. The last place he goes to is the docks, and undoubtedly somehow, he feels like she’ll be there.

 

And she is there, sitting on the bench with her eyes closed, her head tilted back towards the sky.

 

“Hey,” he calls out, walking toward her.

 

She opens her eyes and brings her head back down. He notices the air turn white, telling him she sighed or huffed out some frustration breath. “Hey,” she simply responds, staring blankly at him.

 

He doesn’t know why, but something drops in the pit of his stomach. Whatever chasm has formed between them formed far too fast, and the empty distance between the two of them produces an odd sense of tension. “Did you get my message?” he bluntly asks, rubbing a spot on the back of his neck, his hand falling into the cold the moment he retracts it from his neck.

 

“Yep.” She shrugs, shaking her head as if she’s out of hope.

 

“I see you’ve started visiting the docks quite more frequently for your thinking sessions.” It’s not much of any sort of teasing, but it is a considerate observation.

 

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” she mutters, yawning. “And your brother too. He’s got a big mouth for sailing and the open sea.”

 

“He does own a company.”

 

“That he does.” She stuffs her hands into her jacket. “So you wanted to talk?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“About our…”

 

“Argument, yes,” he blatantly states, finishing off her phrase. “May I… sit?”

 

She nods, a tiny little smile appearing on her face. “Yeah, go ahead.”

 

“I know you’re not particularly fond of these types of conversations, but I just want to say I’m _not_ sorry for what I promptly told you that day,” he begins, noticing her face drop, “because I’m only looking out for you.  Dearly - with all my heart, love.” Although the smile on her lips is nearly indiscernible from the rest of the anxiety, he still notices it. “I don’t explicitly want to say anything just yet, but it’s driving me absolutely mad inside - and Ruby too - with the way we’re acting around each other.”

 

She purses her lips and nods. Emma doesn’t respond with anything, so it gives him the incentive to continue.

 

“Perhaps I’m pulling a Dave move, but… I feel the need to protect you from things. I’ve been through plenty, and with the addition of the knowledge of your past…” he trails off, shaking his head at the remembrance of her bitter pain. “I feel responsible somehow.”

 

“Yeah? Well, I guess the same goes for me because I feel responsible for you too,” she begins, stretching her legs out. “I guess it’s on impulse that I worry for you… especially after the… accident. But when people try to make decisions for me, try to do something for me without even asking me, or if they begin lying, that’s where I lose it. You know why?”

 

He feels as if he knows the answer, but she begins speaking before he can input his thoughts.

 

“I’ve been let down _all_ my life. Lied to, given false hope, played, you name it. So for _once_ , I just wanted someone to trust my instinct, to believe in me, to tell me the _truth_ , instead of shying away from it. I want to be in control in my life, to stand up and punch back instead of being the one to take the hit willingly.” She pauses momentarily, staring at the ground.  “When you were lying, it sparked something inside of me - something big, as if it had finally snapped the bridge between us. I don’t… I don’t know what it was, but it started to break the trust I had with you because even my _best friend_ , my _partner_ , started lying to me - like it was a nightmare or something.

 

“I didn’t want it to start breaking though, believe me that’s the last thing I want out of us. Being concerned about you… is like motherly instincts if you get what I mean. Like-”

 

“My, are you saying you treat me as if I were your own son?” He smirks, raising his eyebrow along with it in curiosity.

 

“Woah, no!” she instantly retorts. Sighing, she leans back and looks up toward the sky. “It’s hard for me, okay? Trusting, believing, caring… it’s foreign sometimes. But… with you, it comes so easily and I don’t know how, but I like it. It’s weird, and I hope I don’t sound like some dumb teenage girl, but I’m just saying that I _care_ , and because of me caring and wanting to do something myself, I snapped at you.” She shrugs. “I guess I’m at fault too. But I’m not apologizing for what I said either for your information.”

 

“Well that certainly eases all the ache,” he starts, “because I was beginning to think you’d never want to trust me again after that.”

 

She laughs warmly, and for one second, that laugh takes away all the grieving he’s done. But, the sadness in her eyes still remain, as if they’ve made their mark, made their living in her soul. Given his spare time, he did pick up a bit of reading, and if he remembers correctly, one simple quote comes to his attention at the moment.

 

_Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself he found gorgeous clarity of her mind?_

 

He gives props to himself for memorizing such a Fitzgerald line, but there’s something familiar in the look of hers, some sort of reflection of himself. With some inexplicable feeling brewing inside of him, he leans forward where his elbows rest on his legs. “You may not trust me, but do believe in me when I say I will do everything I can to form our trust from the ashes again.”

 

“There’s nothing to form, Killian,” she whispers, the sound of her voice drifting along with the brisk winds. “Trust is easily broken and that’s true, but… I don’t think ours is... yet. An argument like that doesn’t break something we’ve slowly developed for nearly three years. I’m not waiting for the shoe to drop on that though, because I hope it never happens.”

 

“Me neither,” he concurs.

 

“Okay, I’m utter shit at these types of things, can we just have everything go back to normal? No more lying, stolen glances, avoiding each other… and the list goes on.”

 

He smiles and nods in agreement, although he knows nothing will ever go back to _normal_. It was never normal in the first place. “Aye,” he murmurs quietly, pushing himself onto his feet. Or maybe it was normal before the entire ruse they started putting up.

 

There’s such an urge inside of him forcing him to tell her the attraction he holds - the liking he’s taken to her of being more than friends. But there’s no possible way for him to utter words like that to her, not after that argument. But she says no more secrets or lying, and this a _big_ secret he’s holding off. However, he has the right to, right? It’s giving him more time to solidify his feelings if they really are that true toward her, and if this conversation and all previous acts haven’t proved enough already, there’s a tonne for him to get done around her.

 

If one gape in his heart can be filled by her, how many wounds can she patch up along with that? A longing answer awaits for him some day.

 

“Perhaps we should take it slow this time?” she asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You know… everything just went by pretty fast with everyone being here.”

 

Although it feels like a hammer has smashed his heart, he smiles as convincingly as possible, nodding. “As you wish.” He wishes only if their relationship were real.

 

 

* * *

 

 

New Years is just around the corner - well tomorrow night, and that means another massive celebrations with fireworks outside.

 

_Killian: Come to the docks tomorrow for New Years._

 

He hesitates on hitting the send button, contemplating through all possible excuses he could be making before he finally presses his finger down, watching the message send.

 

_Emma: Why?_

_Killian: I want to show you fireworks from a different angle._

_Emma: Is it as breathtaking as you make it sound?_

_Killian: How would you know if you’ve never experienced it?_   


_Emma: Damn it._

_Killian: Come tomorrow._

_Emma: Okay._

 

He grins and shuts his phone off, throwing it onto the bedside table before falling into a calm sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes there’s still a little bit of awkward tension between them, but after making up, most of it has dimmed down. Or it’s him being completely paranoid - probably that.

 

Sometimes he really wants to touch her, make more physical contact casually, but he is unknown of his limits.

 

Sometimes he really wants to kiss her, but he knows that’s just wrong.

 

His headache eases over the day, but he does feel a twinge of nervousness just because of his plans for the remainder of the night. Well, it’s not really a plan at all. Just to take her out a bit to see the fireworks from afar, see them while being soothed by the swaying of the ocean waves.

 

Leaning against the mast of the old-styled ship, he breathes in the fresh scent of salt all the while remaining silent and unmoving. He remembers know. He remembers why he’s always been so attracted to the ocean, to boats, to this sort of natural environment. He remembers why Liam and him started up the business in he first place. He remembers that his passion has never once left his heart, and that it’s still there whenever he gets the time to remind himself about it.

 

He hears the creak of the floorboards, knowing that it’s most likely Emma, but he doesn’t bother turning around. There’s also the sound of waves and crickets to accompany her heavy footsteps along the way. He asks her if she’s ready, and she responds with a simple “Yes.”

 

Killian guides the ship away from the pier for a bit, far yet close enough to catch sight of the fireworks without being completely dominated by the bother of town. He checks his watch, and there’s still at least five minutes before the fireworks show begins. Exhaling a calming breath, he anchors the ship in place before returning back to Emma’s side. He allows her to rest her cheek on his shoulder, even if it’s an unexpected action of some intimacy anyways. They’re friend. _Best_ friends, _partners_ \- this is allowed, right? At least he tells himself it’s perfectly acceptable.

 

The serenity of the night keeps them in a comfortable silence. It’s safe to say this is the most relaxed night he’s had in ages, the most simply _happiest_ moment he’s had within the last week. It’s refreshing to be out of town - _away_ from all the other people in his life. Emma’s all he’ll ever really need. _Ever_ \- even if he’s not ready to confess his real feelings.

 

When the minutes pass and the lights start to illuminate the sky with firecrackers, the both tilt their heads up to watch the colours span over the darkness of the night sky. There are several colours, several explosion patterns as well. Simply put, it’s beautiful -

  


“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs.

 

“Aye, but not as beautiful as…” he trails off, unsure of what to say - actually, it’s more of _should_ he say it or not.

 

She looks up at him with such an innocent face, yet compiled with the slightest bit of confusion. “As what?”

 

Killian sighs, closing his eyes as he whispers the words, “As you.”

 

There’s a few ticks of silence which is like making him deaf before she speaks up. “Killian?”

 

“Yes, love?”

 

“Did you mean that?”

 

 _She doubts that? This woman really needs a boost on her self-esteem_. “I di - I _do_.” He smiles down at her, drowning out the sounds of everything and focusing on the utter fascination her face.

 

His eyes flicker down to her lips for the slightest moment before back to her eyes, and there, right _there_ she is emotional, vulnerable, true, and there’s no better moment for him to find himself leaning in toward her. At first, they’re merely touching foreheads, softly pressed against each other, both of them practically catching their own breath in the back of their throats because whatever he feels, she feels it too. And he gives her an out, if she wants to stop, she can stop it and he won’t protest against what she wishes for because that would be the _right_ thing to do.

 

But, she doesn’t. Instead she advances, and his eyes slip closed when their lips meet in a soft manner. It’s funny though because he feels his phone go off from the timer he set on when it’s midnight, and maybe he should stop, maybe he shouldn’t be doing this because it’s only pushing himself more to her when he maybe shouldn’t. All these _maybes_ and _shouldn’ts_ are popping through his brain, but this kiss is… _more_ than _just_ a kiss. It’s a connection between the both of their broken souls, a promise of staying, a vow of protection and care.

 

It doesn’t lose it’s spark, it never seems to lose it’s spark. Her lips always manage to make him want more out of her. It doesn’t lose it’s passionate touch either, even though it’s a slow and emotionally heart-felt kiss. His hands rest at her hips as hers seem to stay around his torso.

 

Neither of them seem interested in pulling away, but he’s the first one to stop, subsequently bumping his nose against hers gently. “Happy New Years, Swan.”

 

She lightly laughs. “Happy New Years, Killian.”

 

“I don’t want to be the one to spoil the moment, but I may have brought some drinks for us.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s the happiest man he’s ever been since… ever. When they get back to land, she links her arm in between his and walks with him back to the diner where everyone else is gathered at. Robin nudges his shoulder as he passes by and smiles, Will is all too caught up talking with Belle, and David and Mary Margaret are talking with Ruby, Liam, and Elsa.

 

“And where were you two when the clock hit midnight?”

 

“On a ship,” Killian responds, “spectating the fireworks from a different perspective..”

 

“Did you kiss?”

 

“Ruby!” Elsa hisses. “That’s none of our business.”

 

Killian laughs, shaking his head. “Perhaps,” is the simple answer he provides, grinning at Emma when they make eye contact.

 

“Oh, they totally kissed,” Ruby murmurs.

 

Deciding it’s time for him to toy around with her, he smirks and asks, “And what of you and… _Whale,_ lass?”

 

“Look, we’re an on and off thing. He pisses me off sometimes with the way he tries to flirt with me, but then there are times where he’s not humiliating himself and I don’t mind,” Ruby explains shamelessly, shrugging. “Honestly, he’s probably being a loner in his office at the hospital right now, and I don’t feel sorry at all for him.”

 

He laughs, remembering the way Victor couldn’t pick up girls back in college. "Of course. He was never the best when it came with women.”

 

“Thanks for telling me that now,” Ruby mutters, seeing Granny wave at her to go over. “I’ll see you two later.”

 

Killian smiles and nods, thankful that Ruby had really given him enough motivation to go discuss things with Emma. The same applies with David, but he already knows how thankful Killian is for the way he sticks up around for him.

 

“So,” Liam starts, “I was thinking about something.”

 

“What’s that?” Emma asks.

 

“Bringing the company over here.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Business back in England hasn’t been as well as we’ve wanted it to be, but since it seems like Storybrooke is the spot for tourism during the right seasons, why not? Besides, we’ve got enough money to transport most things over here, though it might take a bit of time.” Liam’s smiling the entire time he’s talking. “And in addition, you are all wonderful people that I’d love to get to be around more often. Build a better life here with my wife, my yet-to-be-born child, my _brother_ , and friends.”

 

Killian finds himself speechless, utterly both in joy and wonder about his brother’s consideration. “Liam, are you…?”

 

“I was considering it far before visiting here, but I must say actually breathing in the air here has solidified my choice. Elsa and I have both considered it already, being near you again because we’ve missed you.” Liam sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’ll be needing to see your niece or nephew, and being halfway across the world doesn’t really contribute to that.”

 

“That’s… a big change, mate. Are you positive about moving everything here to Storybrooke?” Killian questions. She feels Emma’s arm tighten around his, but he disregards it. “You shouldn’t feel obligated about moving here on my account.”

 

“It’s not just on your account. We feel it’s the best for us, right, Elsa?”

 

“Yeah. Storybrooke seems like a good place to… start fresh, I suppose,” Elsa says herself.

 

“Welcome to Storybrooke.” Killian grins.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s going to be a great year, he knows it. Everything is going in a good direction, _finally_. Perhaps not the way he envisioned it, but it’s going good.

 

“So, you’re happy about Liam and Elsa moving here?” Emma asks.

 

“Shouldn’t I be?”

 

“You should,” she simply responds. “Family, right?”

 

The word strikes his heart and mind when he remembers that she’s never had _family_ , one to believe and trust in. He sighs, and tightens his grip around her waist. “My family is yours too,” he murmurs, turning his head and pressing his lips into her silky hair. “Everyone here cares for you, Swan. Including me, my brother, and Elsa.”

 

“Why?” she asks aloud, a tilt of loss and confusion in her voice. Turning to face him, there is a wonder of both curiosity and vulnerability in her current olive green eyes. “What do you people find in me?” Her fingers curl at the hair on his neck, the warmth seeping through his own skin there.

 

“There’s never one answer to this question you ask of me,” he murmurs, his eyes staring deeply into hers. When he blinks, there’s a sense that it’s all a dream, that _she_ is not real, that everything they’ve done together has just been an ethereal sense of heaven.

 

She lets out a small breath, it tingling against his skin. “Then tell me the one you think applies best.”

 

“You’re... _you_.”

 

“And what does that mean, Jones?”

 

“It means you’re no one else but yourself of course,” he claims broadly. “No one can compare to _you_ , no one can be _you_ besides yourself. Because _you_ describes everything from your smile to your laugh. Because _you_ describes everything from your pain to your happiness. Because _you_ describes everything from your past to your future. Because _you_ describes everything now.”

 

A smile curls at her lips and she sighs, nodding. “You’re… sweet.”

 

“When I want to be of course.” He winks and yawns, running his fingers through her lovely golden curls. When she slips her leg in between his and lets his her head rest against his chest, he whispers, “Good night, Swan,” in a hushed tone, watching her drift to sleep.

 

It’s the first night she’s spent with him in bed now, the first… technically _official_ night together of course. Or morning if it’s seen that way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, he expects her to be gone (on reflex considering she always _runs_ when things are too-good-to-be-true), but she’s still wrapped up in his arms under the cocoon of blankets from the chill running through his apartment since the heat is not turned up high enough.

 

Groggily blinking and glancing over her shoulder, it’s still six in the morning, a little _too_ early to be up on a Sunday morning, but who’s to complain when he has a beautiful lady who he likes in his bed? Definitely not him of course.

 

She buries herself deeper into his hold, making him smile like an unbelievable idiot. He’s yet to tell her he wants _this_ \- early mornings with lazy smiles and small kisses, late nights of climbing into day after an exhausting day at work, casually watching Netflix but barely paying attention while his eyes are focused  completely on her head on his lap. Everything to that point is what he wants with Emma Swan, but he knows well enough that he needs to take it slow, or follow the pace she wants to set for this new blossomed relationship.

 

Perhaps he’ll have a more dedicated conversation about their relationship soon, today, tomorrow, in the near future… as long as he can discuss the terms with her. As much as he wants this, he needs to know that she feels the same, that she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make it work, even if they’ll fight and argue, even if they’ll disagree on some things, even if they’ll have to debate and contemplate on all possible choices.

 

By the time he’s done thinking in his sleep, it’s eight now and they’re both up but not wanting to get out of the comfort of the bed. She groans and rubs her eyes, blinking from the sunlight. He’s rubbing his face and stretching his legs out.

 

“Does David need us today? Because, I don’t want to get out of this bed anymore,” she mutters, rolling onto her face and sighing.

 

He laughs. “As much as I’d love to spend time wrapped up in my bed with you in my arms, I think there are still things we must tend to around town.”

 

“I’m sure no one will notice.”

 

“Everyone will bloody notice, Swan! We’re practically famous,” he exclaims, tugging on her arms and pulling her into him. “What are your thoughts on pancakes?”

 

“They’re good, why?”

 

“Then I’m going to go make us pancakes.”

 

“You cook?”

 

He nods, inhaling the scent of her, trying to memorize every single thing about her. “Indeed, I do. To think that you’d have known that by now considering the amount of time we’ve spent together within three years.”

 

“Sorry, let’s just say I wasn’t so thoughtful about any of that or your skills besides being a law enforcer back then,” she says casually, practically gleaming a look of carelessness. “Anyways, how about you go do that, and I’ll lay here for a bit longer?”

 

“As you wish,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t sleep for too long otherwise I’ll consume all the food myself.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold up. Everything seems to be going too well now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Once Day! (:  
> Sorry for slow updating, but I've been quite swamped with homework and other school work that I haven't had much time and motivation to write.

Her footsteps are the first thing he hears while flipping a pancake on the pan. Well, the least she didn’t sleep in all the way. Though breakfast in bed for the woman would have been a good way to treat her as well. Either way, he’s just happy that this is happening, that whatever they have between them now isn’t one-sided on his part.

 

“Wow, that smells good,” she says from behind.

 

He grins happily as he slides a pancake onto the plate, turning around and handing it to her. “Syrup is on the fridge door if you’d like it,” he says. “And I’m surprised you didn’t choose to sleep in for awhile longer.”

 

“Did you think I would?”

 

“Well, you made quite the impression of it.”

 

She laughs. “Guess you should increase your expectations of my punctuality in terms of breakfast then,” she responds, pouring the syrup onto her pancakes. “Besides, I wanted to see _the_ Killian Jones at work with cooking.”

 

He lets out a small chuckle, flipping the last pancake for himself. “A sight to behold I reckon?”

 

“Oh yeah, totally a sight for sore eyes,” she murmurs before eating.

 

“Good, because you’ll be seeing this no where else.” He yawns, turning the stove off and setting the spatula in the sink, taking his plate and sliding into the seat next to her.

 

“So, where’d you learn to cook like this?” she asks. “Not that I doubt your culinary abilities.”

 

Killian shrugs, reaching for the maple syrup and uncapping it. “Living by yourself makes you inclined to cook for yourself instead of constantly eating the greasy foods being served at Granny’s,” he replies, grabbing his fork and knife. “I’m not a professional by any means, but I’d rather have a healthy dinner or breakfast, fit for my diet time to time.”

 

“If I had known any earlier, I’d bother you for a good salad or something,” she jokes, playing with the fork in her hand, twisting around.

 

He notices her behaviour with that fork, he knows that the _only_ way, the only _reason_ she would do that is nervousness or doubt. Perhaps the fear of what they are, or what they will be is scaring her slightly. “Emma? Are you… fine with all this?”

 

“Fine with what?”

 

She responds a little too quickly than usual, which causes him to trip a bit on his words, going off balance. He stops his fork before breaching the pancake. “Uh… well, _us_?” he asks. “I mean - I know you… might be a bit concerned about this and that’s perfectly normal, but do you…?”

 

Her eyes are staring down at her now empty plate, her tongue darting out between her lips to moisten them. “I just…” she trails off, setting her fork down on the table. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

 

Her name falls from his lips like a soft prayer, broken and destroyed because she’s still uncertain. He knows, he _knows_ she feels something too, that she likes him in a way, but she’s still unable to put them into words, to describe it.

 

A laugh with a tinge of sourness escapes her as she shakes her head. “I wish I knew,” she mutters, her eyes sliding closed. “I wish I knew how to put it into words.”

 

Insecurity is a major thing for her, and he’s well aware of that by now. He knows how she stumbles on words, how all she can do is sometimes stare and smile with a bit of hope, or watch as something fails when she had everything in her range to change the outcomes. He’s seen her fall before, disappointed or vexed, annoyed or short-tempered. And for all these times, all the times he’s seen her, he’s never done anything but stand and watch. But _now_ , oh god, now he can reach out to her, hold her hand, kiss her forehead, hug her, be with her, support her. He has so much he can do with her to assure her everything will be okay.

 

Times like these, he knows she’s completely speechless or lost on words. He knows she doesn’t know how to speak out and verbalize many things, mainly her emotions.

 

“Then _show_ me,” he breathes out, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She’s practically trembling, as if she’s going to crumble down into pieces any second now, and _bloody_ _hell_ does his heart feel like it’s cracking open at the feeling of that. “Because I want to know everything.”

 

Her head slowly tilts to look at him, a bit of reflection in her eyes from the unspilled tears piling at the edge of them. He lets go of her hand and cups her cheek, his eyes flickering to her eyes, her lips, her nose, her _everything_ before going back to see the determination with both loss and pain carved into her. He would do anything to get rid of that look in her eyes, to remove every single drop of struggle and doubt from her, but that wouldn’t make her who she is now, the woman he’s been falling in _love_ with every single day with every single passing moment.

 

But god, oh god, does he see the adoration behind her eyes too, the hope and wonder buried well behind the pain and confusion.

 

The slowness of her leaning in is one thing, and he meets her half way only because he wants her to be sure, to give her the control she needs. He doesn’t close his eyes until their lips meet in a sweet little battle. There’s a burden on her shoulders, some sort of guilt and bewilderment all the same, transferring between the both of them, he stands up and pulls her off her seat, snaking his arm around her while one hand is tangled completely in her hair.

 

Not a single woman has given her this buzzing feeling inside of him, not even Milah. In fact, he rarely finds himself thinking about Milah anymore, most of his thoughts swamped by Emma Swan and the remainder of his family.

 

The kiss continues, slow and gentle between the two of them, given their intimate conversation, given the privacy, locked out from the outside world. He groans softly into the kiss, his hand sliding down to the waist of her shirt.

 

“Killian,” she breathes, pulling back. “I - I can’t.”

 

“Emma-”

 

Her steps back up, and damn, she’s backpedalling faster than he can catch up with her. “I can’t do this.”

 

“Why not, Swan? _Why_ can’t you allow yourself to do this?” he snaps, every step she takes ends up making her back up. “Why in the world do you not allow yourself to love? To be loved? To be cared for?”

 

“Because everyone I’ve ever been with is _gone_!” she shouts back, clenching her fists. “Walsh, Graham… I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you too.”

 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Emma, have I ever told you a lie?”

 

“Once,” she responds quietly.

 

He nods. “Right, _once_. And the reason behind that one time was because I couldn’t take a chance on you… _running_ _away_ like you are right now,” he confesses, clenching his jaw at the remembrance. “Because I bloody like you, Swan, I want this - _us_ \- to be real, to be a thing. And guess what? I’d do it over and over, all for you, all until I win your heart through honesty and determination. I’d go through the pain of _faking_ it over and over again, without the trickery in showing my affections. So, tell me this now - do you want there to even be _us_? Or, do you want to run from it, not look back, and go back to our old, mundane friendship? It’s all up to you, Swan, because I’m done with this rejection. I want - _need_ \- an answer, to know if you want me to back off or not because I don’t want to force myself against your will.”

 

She stays silent, looking at the floor in deep thought. He sighs to let out his frustration.

 

“I want mornings like what we had earlier, I want nights like what we had yesterday, I want to kiss you like what we had on the ship and just now… I want… and believe me I sound like a selfish bastard, but I want you,” he tells her honestly. “But if you don’t want me, then I won’t chase you. But, I also won’t leave because that’s not the right thing to do. I’d go through hell to fight for you still.”

 

“I want it,” she whispers, barely over a breath or audible though. “But I’ve been on the run all my life, it’s my own reflex that I can’t stop because…” she fades off, her voice trembling through every word. “I can’t lose another person I care for.”

 

“Well you can bloody well stop worrying about losing me because I’m _not_ leaving,” he boldly states, keeping his stance firm. “I survived a beer bottle to the head, I survived a car crash, I survived a broken heart, I’m going to stay and that’s not going to change.”

 

“Mary Margaret was right…” She laughs bitterly. “My walls might protect me from everything else, but it keeps out love too… guess that can’t be helped.”

 

“Aye,” he sighs. “But, it’s been an absolute privilege getting an opportunity to break them down, to see the raw you, and I think that’s never going to change.” He takes some steps forward until he levels with her. He raises his hand and curls it into a fist on her chest, right above her heart. “But you have the choice in the end.”

 

Her hand moves up to rest on top of his, his fist sprawling back into an open hand. “You said you’d win my heart,” she whispers, her throat moving as she swallows. “Maybe you already have. I just needed a little bit of convincing.”

 

His eyes widen at her response, her change of heart, her actions. He merely stares at her, astonished at the choice of words, the truth and purity behind her motives. After searching her face for any trace of refusal or doubt, he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against hers, his eyebrows drawn together as he settles on the deafening silence between them.

 

The pregnant silence is not uncomfortable, because these moments always feel right with her, no matter the situation, no matter the argument, no matter the heart-to-heart conversations.

 

“I’m-”

 

“Don’t.

 

“How do you know what I’m going to say?”

 

“You’re somewhat of an open book, remember? But, _don’t_. Don’t apologize or try to fix things,” he insists, dropping his hand from the spot over her heart and gently resting it at her sides. “Don’t think you need to be sorry because you shouldn’t be.”

 

“If… we do this, can we just take it slow? Go at a pace where we can both keep up with?”

 

“General consensus would be yes, darling.” He smiles and kisses her forehead. “Just don’t shut me out, would you do that for me, love?”

 

“I’d do it for you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Balancing between many things have become quite the difficulty for the both of them. With Liam wanting to move everything over, he requires Killian’s help, and then Mary Margaret has just announced she’s pregnant, so now there’s two pregnant friends around to deal with - not that he’s complaining of course. Women can be a pain to deal with sometimes (like Emma’s stubbornness), but it’s never made him back away and run off. He’s always been persistent because once he finds something he wants to reach out to, to achieve, it’s pretty much the objective he’s got in mind for the remainder until he succeeds.

 

It’s a solid week after Emma and his little heated discussion, but things are getting hectic. With two pregnant women constantly around him, a friend who is in a pretty serious relationship with the Mayor, and his brother bugging him about helping him deal with the company’s details and paperwork again, he has hardly got enough time to spend around with Emma now. He wishes he could see her more often when time permits, but that’s not in the hands for Killian Jones. It’ll probably be another couple of weeks until he’ll be free from the grasp of work and more work.

 

Nostalgic waves flow through him as he looks over the paperwork to sign to bring the Jones Sailing Inc. over to Storybrooke. It’s been years since he’s laid his eyes on anything company related, and now everything is taking a sharp turn in his life. With his brother’s desire to stay in Storybrooke and grow new roots for a family and his burning desire to be with Emma, he’s never actually felt so ecstatic about something in his life.

 

“Swan! I didn’t expect you to be here,” he says surprised, glancing up from the paper on the desk. “Weren’t you supposed to be out with Dave?”

 

“May or may not have excused myself to Granny’s so I could grab something for a quick bite, and I walked past here so…” She shrugs. “Thought I’d visit while you’re so captured by the words on those papers - honestly expected your face to be on the desk and asleep by now. Have you changed your opinion on paperwork?”

 

He scoffs, shaking his head. “A fine line between the good and the bad paperwork, love.” He lifts the sheets up from his desk. “These are far more interesting to dissect apart than the bloody work Dave gives me constantly - he has horrid filing skills too, always leaving me to do his work. If I wasn’t his subordinate here, I’d have denied all of that work a long time ago, but as you can see, I’m not in the right position to do so.” He sighs, capping the tip of the pen. “You should head back before Dave starts to think we’re doing more… pleasurable activities.”

 

“Trying to get rid of me already?” she pouts.

 

He laughs cheerfully, standing up and his hands trailing down her arms until he twines their hands together. “Definitely not purposely,” he says, leaning down and pressing a short-lived kiss to her lips. “If there wasn’t so much work to get to, I’d not want to spend a bloody moment without you.”

 

She smiles. “Come on, sailor. Get the work done and we can just go back to your place for some Netflix and pizza since it’s been awhile.”

 

“Is there something Netflix and pizza cannot solve, Swan?”

 

She raises a questioning eyebrow. “Rhetorical question, now get back to work so you can leave earlier.”

 

“Yes, m’lady,” he groans, rolling his eyes as he detaches his hands from hers and get back to work. He notices the way her hips sway just a little bit more than usual. “Bloody minx,” he mutters under his breath, plopping back down into his seat and rolling the chair closer to his desk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Emma: Mary Margaret has dragged me out to go shopping for baby clothes against my free will. Send help._

 

Reading the message simply makes him amused at the way she’s not so enthusiastic - he’s never pegged her to be enthusiastic - about shopping.

 

_Killian: Not that bad of an experience, is it, Swan?_

 

_Emma: If she told me ahead of time I’d be pretty chill about it, but my feet are burning after chasing after those rebel teenagers earlier. I tripped._

_Killian: Would it be bad form to be laughing at that?_

_Emma: Laughing about me tripping? Yes._

_Killian: Then I will do my best to hold in my laughter._

 

_Emma: You’re laughing._

_Killian: No._

_Emma: I can tell lies even through texts._

_Killian: Liam needs me. Have fun with MM._

 

* * *

 

 

“I hate you,” she mutters with an annoyed, yet tired tone, trudging through the front door of his apartment.

 

It’s been this… _thing_ now and he likes it. They have a schedule of whose place to go to on specific nights. Sometimes they simply do nothing where he’s just sitting on the couch which her head on his lap, smiling like a completely love besotted fool. Other times they binge watch as many movies before they fall asleep in the worst possible position, waking up claiming that they should have both not done that. (They still do it anyways because it’s already a force of habit.)

 

He simply hums in amusement, hearing her feet patter around while he’s stirring a pot of soup. (Not to mention that he cooks once in a while. Pizza is just not enough to suffice sometimes.) Turning the notch of the stove down, he grabs two bowls for the both of them. “Will my special soup lift your mood up?” he asks, spinning on his heels and setting the full bowl on the table. She grunts something quietly (probably about his idiocy as always). “Come on, Swan, you can’t blame me for what you had to endure with Mary Margaret.”

 

“It’s like you left me to rot with an overly-excited pregnant woman,” she responds, sliding down into the chair. “But you’ll need to do more to relieve me than just your soup, no matter how delicious it is,” she admits, lifting it up and pursing her lips.

 

“Was worth a try,” he huffs, scratching the back of his head as he settles down next to her.

 

“By the way, we’re gonna have to go do our own shopping at some point. Mary Margaret _and_ Elsa need presents and we can’t just sit idly acting as if we’re not happy for them.”

 

“I think Liam may pardon me for a day.” He shrugs, sipping a bit from the soup. “Have you considered telling Dave?”

 

She chuckles. “You think telling them would be a good idea? I’m not sure I could because if Mary Margaret finds out, she’ll probably pester me about it and anticipate something extraordinary which I probably can’t deliver.” She sighs, leaning back on the chair. “And what sucks is that Storybrooke does not have much shops around town.”

 

“We’ll manage.”

 

“Yeah, somehow,” she murmurs, drowning herself in the soup. “You should cook more often.”

 

He smirks while finishing his bowl off. “If we weren’t so busy, I would. When our schedules dim down, I’ll cook as much as you want me to, Swan. But I am not responsible for all the supplies once we’re out, I think you’ll be assigned to grocery shopping.” He slides out of his chair, taking the two now empty bowls back over to the sink in the kitchen. “Unless you have any objections?”

 

“Damn you and your impossible negotiation situations,” she exclaims.

 

He laughs, rinsing out the bowls and setting them aside to dry. “Perhaps you just need to up your game, love,” he teases, rounding the corner to find her down on the couch with a cushion over her head. “I think… you need to go shower before you make my couch reek of whatever scents you’ve picked up today with Mary Margaret.”

 

“Implying that I smell?” she mutters, sitting up and throwing the cushion at him. “Screw you.”

 

He catches the cushion just in time, rolling his eyes at her statement. “Implying that you need to keep your hygiene at an all-time high because that’s being healthy.”

 

“Fine,” she breathes out, “jerk.”

 

“More like dashing rapscallion.”

 

She scoffs, walking over to stand in front of him. “Overkill.”

 

Tilting his head to the side he quips, “Scoundrel?”

 

It seems as if she’s contemplating with raised eyebrows, looking up at him with a suspicious little glare. She shakes her head and leans up to brush her lips across his. “Let me stick to jerk,” she insists quietly.

 

“Damn,” he mumbles, unable to keep the smile building up on his lips while he watches her stride down the hallway to get clothes and shower.

 

(So maybe they’re _sort_ _of_ keeping spare clothes at each other’s apartments now. So what?)

 

 

* * *

 

 

“David needs me to do your unfinished paperwork tomorrow,” she mumbles, pressing her nose against his collarbone.

 

He pulls the sheets up above their shoulders, grinning at her complaint. “Sorry to burden you with that,” he responds, pressing his lips into her soft, blonde hair. “Not my fault Liam has been shoving work that he can’t complete toward me about the company. Didn’t mean to slack off on my other Deputy duties.”

 

“It’s fine,” she whispers, her breath hitting his skin. “It’s important to the both of you. I’m not going to stand in the way and complain about something as small as paperwork.”

 

“Are you sure? Because I’ve been claimed as a good listener, and if you’d prefer to vent all of your frustration out on me, I think I can fully tolerate that,” he jokes.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Alright.”

 

A few moments pass where none of them say any words. He simply listens to the sound of her breathing and the way her body shifts when she breathes. He’s only slept in bed with her a couple of times overnight, letting himself hold her closely like when he couldn’t with Milah. Sometimes, he thinks she doesn’t realize he’s still awake since she shifts her body closer into his hold and warmth, her lips softly pressed against his chest. He’s never thought that she would enjoy this type of stuff, especially after what heartbreak has caused her for years, but when she’s open about it, she sure is in an acceptable state and to be honest, he loves this version of Emma Swan. It allows him to easily dive deeper into her emotions without having to say a single thing.

 

However, he still worries about whether she’s sure about this, about _them_. There are times where he can still see a drop of doubt or concern, doubt of whether it’s going to work out, concern that he’ll somehow disappear one day and move on - forgetting her in the process. He doesn’t know how to prove her that he’ll stay for as long as she’ll allow him to stay. Perhaps being persistent and around while everything goes on is the only way that can show her. She’s a woman who likes action over words. It’s not at her expense to discuss, but rather show, so that’s what he’ll do. Show her countless times how he won’t leave her.

 

“Killian?”

 

He looks down at her. “Aye, love?”

 

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

 

A question without an answer on his part, unfortunately. “My plans are unknown of at the moment. I have to go talk to Liam tomorrow about what he needs me to do next.”

 

“Next thing you know he’s sending you all the way back to England.”

 

“Let’s hope not because I don’t think I can last long without you,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “Sleep, Swan, you’re going to need enough rest to stay awake while doing paperwork.”

 

“Smart thinking,” she says. “Good night, Killian.”

 

“Good night, Swan.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Both of them scramble out of bed in the morning. Well, Emma scrambles out of bed at the sound of her phone alarm going off, waking him in the process of course.

 

“I gotta go,” she grumbles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Catch you later, Jones.”

 

“See you, Swan,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he glances over at the clock. It still early for him, and he highly doubts Liam is up at the moment, so he decides to take his time and get a little bit more sleep.

 

The bed always feels double its size when Emma isn’t in it. He’s grown fond of her presence next to his in bed, even though they’ve only shared a bed a handful of times when one of them is too lazy to go back to their apartment after hanging out. Her scent lingers on the empty spot next to him, and he fights the battle of trying not to lose himself in it. He groans, throwing the pillow over his head and sighing heavily into the mattress covers, remembering that he doesn’t have any more than one hour of bedtime left, excluding the amount of time he actually needs to prepare himself for the day.

 

Even with his schedule of getting up early before, he’s been slacking off recently, and no one really complains about it anyways, so he doesn’t see the harm in it. Cherishing the extra moments in his comfortable bed has always been better than not, so that’s exactly what he does.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He rubs the back of his neck as he walks into Granny’s, scanning the diner to see Liam drinking his coffee at one of the table. He sighs and moves his body toward his brother, dropping down into the seat in front of him and motioning at Ruby for the regular.

 

“What’s next on the list, brother?”

 

“Well, there are still some dealings that need to be sealed back in England, except I can’t exactly do that considering Elsa is due soon,” Liam explains, shaking his head with a small smile. “We could delay it, but tourism season is starting soon and I don’t think it’d be a good way to start off. Perhaps you can do this for me.”

 

 _Swan was right, bloody hell_ , he thinks, remembering the conversation from the night before. “So you want me to go back to England?”

 

“As soon as possible, yes. No more than a week's business of finishing  everything off to bring it all over here,” Liam elaborates, just as Killian’s drink slides in front of him. “Is it too much to ask?”

 

“No, of course not,” Killian quickly deflects back. “No more than a week, right? Perhaps earlier?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay,” he mutters, picking his mug up and taking a drink out of it. He knows that making a decision without Emma’s input is not a good idea, but what is there to discuss? Liam needs to take care of Elsa, and he’s the only other heir to the company who can take on such a job. “Do you have the departure and everything planned already?”

 

“I do,” Liam says, eyeing him carefully. “What of Emma? Would she… you know, mind about this sudden plan?”

 

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” he replies, shrugging. She may be angry or frustrated, _maybe_ , but it’s just going to be a risk he’s going to take. “I’ll just have to explain to her the details when I see her later.” Setting his coffee down he leans forward. “So, when’s the trip?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He knows this is bad - taking up an offer like this the instant he was told, but he’s got no other choice. He doesn’t want to delay the plans, and with Liam having to be of service for Elsa, he can’t do anything else but be the pawn in the game at the moment. It’s not going to be a long trip anyways, a week at maximum and probably less than a week if he can get all problems sorted out quickly.

 

If their schedules weren’t so faulty, they would have more time to talk about all of this, to actually take in that he’s heading back to England for a bit after years of leaving all of that behind, but Emma calls in saying she won’t be able to hang out with him, which means no discussing with her. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, letting the water run over his body from the shower.

 

Droplets of it hitting the ground beneath him echoes around in the shower as he braces his hands forward on the cool tile walls, trying to conjure up all possible outcomes of talking to her about this sudden change of plans. The hot water beating against his skin releases the tension that’s been building up as knots underneath his skin, the steam fogging up the room while his mind is having a quiet battle of _what in the world were you thinking agreeing to this without her input first?_

 

Groaning, he stands up straight, reaching forward and turning the handle of the shower off, the last thing he hears is the sound of the water draining out. Pushing the shower curtain out of the way and reaching for the towel, he dries off, taking his time.

 

He doesn’t really feel hungry, so after cleaning himself up by getting dressed and shaving just the appropriate bit to keep his scruff at minimum, he plops down on his couch and turns the TV on, opting to watch some Netflix for awhile. What he doesn’t expect is falling asleep after watching a couple of episode of Game of Thrones. It’s not pleasant to wake up to banging at the door with the TV still on and your neck and back sore from the position of sleep on a piece of furniture not meant to be slept on. Blowing out a heavy breath, he presses the button on the remote and shuts the TV off, going to answer the door.

 

It’s a not-so-good-looking Emma Swan standing in front of him, and he think he looks like shit standing here after just waking up at… god knows what time. “Swan… what’re you doing here?”

 

“Can I come in?” she asks, evading the question.

 

He nods and steps back from the door, letting her walk into his apartment. There’s a bit of tension there, how she holds herself up, how she seems angry or upset, and he doesn’t know why. He wants to know why though.

 

“When were you going to tell me?” she questions quietly, turning to look at him as he closes the door.

 

Jerking his head to the side, he narrows his eyes at her in confusion, shaking his head. “Tell you about what, love?”

 

“You going back to England!” she shouts in response.

 

It makes sense now. The brokenness in her eyes, the lilt of her voice as if she’s going to cry, the fear written all over her face. “Swan… Emma, love, that’s for a week! I… Liam needs me to do something for him since he can’t leave Elsa alone with child,” he quickly explains, the words just tumbling out of his mouth quickly because he needs her to understand before she makes some rash assumption - not that she hasn’t already. “How did you know of this?”

 

“Elsa, she, well she sort of blurted it out but there weren’t any specific details,” she responds a bit more quietly. “I thought you were leaving.”

 

“You should bloody well know I wouldn’t ever leave you, darling,” he quietly says. “I promised that before, and it’s not changing. I’m just going to England for a week and then coming back - and if I’m lucky, perhaps I can return earlier than that.”

 

“Were you going to tell me?”

 

“Aye, but when you called last night saying you were busy, I decided against bothering you until later.” He shrugs, scratching the spot behind his ear. “I couldn’t deny my brother, so I took up the offer immediately to take it off his and his pregnant wife’s hands.”

 

She sighs. “Right, sorry for reacting so quickly. I just… you know, _issues_.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Stop apologizing.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He sigh from relief, walking up to her and wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Okay?” he whispers, pressing his nose to the side of her neck.

 

They just stand there for awhile.

 

Hugs are important for them. He’s lost Milah, after not holding on tight enough. She’s lost Graham from not holding on tight enough, and then she lost Walsh when she did hold on too tightly. So embraces are important - significant in their relationship. They mean plenty of things, and sometimes they don’t meant the same for the both of them, but sometimes they do. Sometimes he just wants to cling onto her forever, to have some happily ever after like fairy tales. But then, oh god, sometimes it’s just a small little hug after not seeing each other for the entire day, and even those mean something to him. It means progress, it means that they don’t worry about what others are thinking, it means that he’s just as devoted and serious as she is.

 

Any sort of action of affection between them means something, small or big, important or not. He cherishes and relishes every moment he gets with her, because as much as she’s afraid of him leaving, he’s afraid of her running. They’re scared of each other’s insecurities, but somehow they manage to pull it off and patch it up when one wound peels open again. It’s an automatic process between the two, as if it’s already a habit, but he knows one day they won’t need to worry about it, one day they’ll just be happy without having any more concerns and worries.

 

She pulls back, looking up at him with a curious set of eyes. "When do you leave?"

 

"End of the week," he answers.

 

She frowns slightly. "Guess I'll have to spend as much time with you until then."

 

“It’s only a week,” he reiterates, making it out as a small deal. “You can’t miss me _that_ much, Swan,” he teases. “Because I’m going to be the one who misses you more, since I’m the one going across the sea for a week.”

 

“Are you _seriously_ challenging me about who’s going to miss who more?” she questions in a playful tone, raising a brow at his attitude. “I don’t think that’s a variable we can measure, so let’s stick to the fact we’re just going to need to last a week without each other,” she says, a small yawn following after her talking.

 

“Tired?”

 

“Exhausted,” she mutters, leaning her head forward onto his chest. “In the five years of being in the Sheriff, I have never done so much paperwork in my _life_ ,” is her complaint.

 

He chuckles. “You exhibit more exaggeration over paperwork than I do.” Bending down, he slips his arms under her knees and picks her up, walking toward his bedroom to drop her on to the bed. “Rest. Storybrooke doesn’t have enough nefarious crime for all of us to work - we can manage without one Sheriff around today,” he tells her with all the care in the world. “Besides, having a lady warm my bed, especially the one I like, has always been a massive advantage.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles, kicking her boots and slipping her jacket off. “What’re you going to do?”

 

“I suppose I’ll gather some stuff to pack into a suitcase.” He shrugs, opening his closet and fishing his suitcase out from the top of the shelf. “I promise I’ll be quiet so you can sleep.”

 

“Thank you Mr. Thoughtful.”

 

He turns around, chuckling. “You’re _most_ welcome.”

 

He swears he can hear her grumbling something about his cocky responses, but he’s too happy that she’s not that angry with him, that everything will work out fine, that he’ll be back from that trip in a week or less, that life is being _good_ to him now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They don’t exactly get much done after he’s finished packing the majority of his necessities. He falls into bed with her for an hour or two, just enjoying the way her body is pressed against his warmly, _securely_ , without having a worry in the world for anything else. And for the slightest moment, he wishes this is it. Wishes that he doesn’t have to worry about what the world and what life has in store for them outside of his apartment. Having Emma really is enough for him, just enough for him to be eternally happy, quite frankly. Big, bold statement as it is, the weight of the matter is still the truth.

 

He sighs into her hair, breathing in the faint scent he’s started to grown so bloody used to, he can even smell it even when he’s not a couple of feet distant from her. He wishes he could remain in this perpetual state of bliss, because honestly, he has less than week to be by her side before he’s off on a plane back to England for a week, doing things he’d be both excited and dread for.

 

Letting his hand slide over her middle, he finds her hand right by her stomach, and he interlaces his fingers with hers, giving it a small little squeeze. She does the same in response, and he smiles into her hair, pressing a lingering kiss before pulling back and letting himself continue to breathe in what she has to offer for him. Just her presence is enough to make him feel lighter - there’s nothing else in the world that could substitute the amount of affection and care for her with anything else - and he wonders if he’s the same for her. He wonders if he’s as much of an anchor keeping everything at bay calmly, just as she is for him.

 

She turns in his arms, her nose pressed against the hollow of his throat and his lips part as he stares down at her, the bundle of a woman he clearly cannot stop thinking about and cherishing. Glancing up at him, she smiles, and his hand traces patterns on her knuckles from their entwined hands. He briefly wonders about what she must be thinking, if she’s possibly having as many thoughts as he is having right now, if her particularly crowded brain must be working on and off from the recent buzz of a schedule.

 

She sighs. “Do you have a ride to the airport yet?” she asks.

 

“No,” he responds quietly, confusion masking his emotions the moment her abrupt question comes into light, “unless you’re offering your services.”

 

Immediately, her face lights up, the uncertainty sprawled across her face fleeting the moment he answers. “Good, because I call dibs on driving you down to the airport,” she promises.

 

“Sounds very much like a movie cliché, Swan,” he says jokingly, thinking of the ridiculous goodbye scenes at airports. “Didn’t know you were one of those people.”

 

Emma scoffs. “I am _not_ one of those people,” she insists.

 

He hums, raising a challenging brow at her before lowering his head slightly, nudging her nose with his. “Of course not,” he murmurs, ghosting his lips briefly over hers, smiling. “Because my Swan is not going to participate in any stereotypical mundane traditions of saying goodbye.”

 

“Oh, so you _own_ me now?”

 

“I think I’ve owned you since we first made eye contact, love.”

 

Immediately, she deflects, “No, _god no_.”

 

“How about yes?” he challenges, grinning unbelievably happily.

 

God, he loves this, _all_ of this. Every little moment of banter they share in bed or in the kitchen, every little moment of frustration she shows whenever he may best her, or when neither of them want to say anything and just fall into bed together and somehow, through some floundering sort of wizardry, they find comfort enough to spend another hour or two discussing things of no real interest after lingering silences.

 

But sometimes, he can’t help but muse about the possibilities of taking their relationship further. Not marriage, _definitely_ not that, but perhaps moving in together. Going on more dates. However, that’s a real issue considering there is not much you can technically do in Storybrooke. However, with his mind always thinking of intuitive ways, perhaps he can build up another brilliant date to surprise Emma with.

 

“Swan? I think I should go give David a call about you not coming in today.”

 

“You do that.” She yawns. “I actually need to sleep this time. I didn’t get much last night.”

 

Grinning, he kisses her forehead one last time before climbing out of bed, reaching for the phone on his nightstand before exiting the room promptly, shutting the door quietly behind him.

 

When David questions - with quite a curious tone of course - he carefully deflects the fact that she’s at his apartment, in his bed, curled up and sleeping because exhaustion and fatigue have gotten the best of her. Meanwhile, he also notifies David of his leave by the end of the week, and at first he hisses some threats at him for leaving so abruptly without much notice, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he excuses himself and hangs up on the call, stuffing the phone back into his pocket before making himself a cup of coffee.

 

By the time he’s back in his bedroom, she’s completely out.

 

Yes, he definitely loves her and there's no turning back.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rated _M_** for Mature because we all know it's time. Hey but also some F for fluff galore, yeah?

It was never a part of their plan to engage in any... much more - well, how do you say it - _enjoyable activities_.

 

But never has he ever felt this way. It's not some fleeting feeling that'll go away, no, it never is. No matter how chaste their kisses be, sweet and small and simple, there's always a certain need behind it. He'll never understand why, but it's not something he's going to analyze over - he's just going to enjoy it, get that sudden kick out of it instead. What he does wonder, however, is how Emma is capable of doing this... thing to him even when it's never intentional. Every time he glances at her, it's simply like he's always confused about why he gets her. How he even became so lucky.

 

After a rather exhausting day for her, he finds her right out of the shower, completely unintentional on his half. His eyes simply scan over the back of body, and that enough is to cause an erection to spring beneath his jeans. He's nothing but a gentleman, so when he finally closes his eyes and steps out quietly from the room, he exhales a shaky breath, only attempting to rid of the view burned into his brain. Usually he'd be able to control the heat pooling in the heat of his stomach, but after that view, nothing becomes lighter between his legs, it's only becoming rather difficult to breathe down there. He suppresses a groan before he swings the door open to find her partially clothed. In an oversized t-shirt.

 

It's not like she hasn't already noticed his presence, because he's sure she realized the first time. He definitely should have knocked before nearly casually sauntering into the bedroom. Innocent thoughts are one thing, but now it's not so pure. There's only so much a man can truly handle before he loses his own sanity.

 

"Never thought you'd be shy in front of your naked girlfriend," she teases.

 

He laughs, though it sounds far more dark than something to light up the tension burning in his body. "Well, Swan, when we haven't discussed such details of our relationship yet, and I've had the impression that you'd like more personal space than having a man breathe down your neck every second he finds himself in a situation like what I just found myself in with you." He walks forward and rests his hands at her sides, and through the fabric of the shirt, he can feel she's still in her undergarments. Relief.

 

"I know," she says, "but I honestly don't care. Might as well make the memory last before you leave, right?"

 

"Swan," he breathes, "don't torture a man like that."

 

"Woops.” She laughs, pressing that ever-so-chaste kiss on his lips. “I know I want to take it slow, but... when you’re - how did you say it? - devilishly handsome, I can’t help it.”

 

“You’re treading a thin line, love,” he murmurs, pushing her back toward the bed slowly. “Are you sure? I do not want to push you into anything, so tell me, now, or whenever, when you desire the need to stop.”

 

“Killian, please, if I wanted to stop, I would have yelled at you the first time you barged in.”

 

He gives her a wry grin before he pins her down on the bed, his lips fusing with hers with quite the force. God, now that he’s already passed a line he can’t move back on, he can’t help but wonder more and more about what this woman is.

 

His shirt is already halfway unbuttoned, courtesy of Emma herself. It doesn’t take long before she flings that way across the room, and it doesn’t take long before her hand trails down to the belt around his jeans, unbuckling the damned thing. He smiles, pressing kisses down her jaw and under her ear, and the pleasant sounds that come from her mouth simply leaves him in utter awe.

 

He’s about to actually do it with Emma Swan, and in all of the three years he’s known her, he’s never anticipated that his life would end up here, with her.

 

This isn’t just sex. He knows that, but she may not, and though he can’t read her face now or what’s going on in that mind of hers, this is actually _making love_ because he bloody loves her, and this is just the beginning of everything. Who knew fake dating would lead them here?

 

Kicking his jeans off after unzipping it, his hands discard the t-shirt she’s wearing, revealing that, well, she’s not exactly wearing a bra at all. He groans at the view, his hand moving up and cupping a breast before he leans back forward and kisses her again, this time a little less fast. He intends to make every second memorable, and if she’s tired now, well, too bad, she’s going to be tired even more later. That’s the least of either of their concerns anyways.

 

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, her lips parting slightly as he runs his tongue across her lower lip. Her hands gently brush past his abdomen to the waistband of his briefs. “Get this off, _now_.”

 

“Quite demanding, aren’t we?” He chuckles, slipping them off and stepping out of them. “But I intend to have my way with you tonight, Emma. I’m going to set every inch of your body _aflame_ , love.” The first step is getting rid of those bloody knickers on her, and that’s exactly what he does.

 

She rolls her eyes and promptly wraps her legs around his torso, pulling him down against her. “Yeah, well prove that.”

 

“Of course,” he hisses against her skin, pressing kisses down her body, “I very much intend to.”

 

The gasp that escapes her mouth when he finds his finger slipping between her leaves him speechless. Or even the guttural sound coming from the back of her throat when she arches her back gently when he increases the pace. Even though there are no words being spoken, he knows that everything he’s thinking is exactly on her mind as well. How easily they fall into their own routine already possibly scares her because this is serious commitment, but he’s glad she’s sure, that she’s giving herself to him anyways.

 

All of this is already like a drug to him, addictive and returning for more. Every sound and word coming out of her mouth during their time merged together, he can’t seem to ever get enough. He kisses her again, more firmly. The moment her mouth opens with a moan, he smirks against her, pulling his fingers out from the pleasure he’s provided her.

 

Quickly, he reaches over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, his hand blindly going for the condoms sitting inside.

 

But, before he can even rip that package open, she’s decided to have her wicked way with him, and he’s not going to deny this. He drops the condom which is still packaged on the bed, his hand immediately going to grip a handful of her hair, though still mindful of his force. “Bloody hell,” he grunts when she licks the underside of his cock. Taking a deep breath is his choice, but that goes out the window when he squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a ragged breath. “Swan, _please_ ,” he begs breathily, licking his lips.

 

“Now you’re the demanding one,” she murmurs before taking him in.

 

And does he feel like he’s going to fall over if it wasn’t for his knees still supporting him from the edge of the bed.

 

“Emma, gods above, woman,” he mutters, his chest heaving. “As much as I’d love to come now, I’d find it more fun if it’s actually _inside_ of you, darling,” he growls, stopping her in her tracks. She pouts slightly, and he chuckles before reaching for the untouched condom and slipping it on.

 

Firstly, he is mildly prepared for the way she reacts when he slips his way in. She is simply some goddess, and damn it, he’s missed out on this for a two entire years, but even so, he does not regret any second of it because it’s brought him here anyways. They fall into an easy pace, and every time he adjusts his angle slightly and she takes in that sharp breath, he can’t help but smile. The heat and passion between them is still there, through every thrust he makes that seems to send her just over the edge.

 

But it’s simply not enough. Not enough to make her fall off the cliff yet. He bends forward, his head dropping to her shoulder as he presses kisses there, his teeth scraping over her skin. The pleasured gasp that comes from her is always enough fuel for him to continue.

 

“Killian,” she breathes out, the sound of his name hardly heard. “God, don’t stop, _please_ don’t stop.”

 

“Never,” he whispers next to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe gently before moving back to pressing the trail of kisses down the side of her neck, to her breasts. “God, you feel so good, love,” he drawls, moving back to hover over her face.

 

It only takes a few more minutes of an increased pace to send her screaming her name against his lips, the sound of that making him lose it too. The room is full of panting, and he can feel the sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Brushing away some stray strands of hair from her face, he kisses her forehead before he pulls out of her, removing the condom and disposing it in the garbage.

 

“You, Emma Swan, will result in my death,” he says softly, weaving his way past the clothes randomly thrown on the floor and into bed. “Did I manage to make every inch of you burn?”

 

She laughs, turning and pressing herself into his arms. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, you did a _splendid_ job.”

 

“That’s good to hear.”

 

Both tired and sated, neither of them utter another word until morning falls above their heads.

 

But, it doesn’t steer him away from the kisses and hot breaths against each other’s skin, regardless of what time it is.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You both _totally_ did the do!”

 

“Ruby!” Emma hisses, smacking her arm. “Can you not?”

 

“Sorry, the both of you are literally glowing,” Ruby responds, much more quietly.

 

Laughing, he wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulders, giving her a small squeeze. “Sorry, lass, but details such as that are not up for front-page rumours on the newspaper,” he jokes with Ruby. “It’s a small town, we don’t want everyone to know the Sheriff and Deputy had engaged in intriguing activities.”

 

“Aha, so you did,” she mutters, averting her eyes when Granny waves at them. “Looks like Granny needs me. The usual for you two? Ooo, or maybe more since you spent the night all busy.”

 

“I may be Sheriff, but I do want to arrest you right now just for teasing us like that,” Emma mutters under her breath

 

“Love, let loose a little,” he murmurs, kissing the side of her forehead. With a curt nod, he turn to Ruby and answers, “Aye, just the regular, no more no less.”

 

When Ruby stalks off behind the counter and into the kitchen to set their usual in place, Emma finally sighs and leans back, closing her eyes. “I don’t want everyone to know we had sex. That’s just weird.”

 

“Is it?” he challenges.

 

“It’s personal.”

 

“True,” he agrees, “but I’m rather proud.”

 

“Let’s not talk about this during breakfast. You leave tomorrow, and I don’t want it to be the last memory I have of you until then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Sometimes he’ll walk into the station and find her staring at nothing until he rests a hand on her shoulder and asks, “Hey, you alright there, Swan?”_

_She looks up at him and smiles with a nod. “Blanked out is all.”_

_As much as he’d love to tease her or even pry for information to know why she does have the habit of zoning out like that, he knows her walls and how she’s guarded about some of the more fragile memories or thoughts. With that in mind, he keeps to himself and smiles back and only responds, “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I suppose I could be of value to you there.”_

_“Right, because you’re a good listener.”_

_“Hey, it’s what I’ve been told!”_

_“Of course.” She shrugs and laughs before standing up and rounding her desk. “But honestly, thank you... I guess.”_

_“Always a pleasure, love. That’s what friends are for, right?”_

_She gives him a coy smile and just nods subtly._

_And when he finds her asleep with her head flung back on her chair, the pen sitting uncapped on her desk when it’s midnight, he sighs and turns the lamp off, picking her up and dropping her off at the Nolan’s place. It’s the least he can do for her. She never seems to ask about it the next day when they both go in for work, and he wonders if she knows he’s been doing that for her._

_He also learns that there’s a specific day each year when she seems like she’s in more misery than usual. Her eyes staying away from everyone, her own presence feeling far more distant. Something is wrong, and he can feel the air around her always shape and shift, and all he does is watch her carefully, see how her gestures are gentler and done half-heartedly, or the fake face she puts up for others to see. But Killian sees through it, he does, but he doesn’t ask anything out of her._

_When David tells him it’s the day the previous Sheriff died and that they were good friends, his heart aches a little for Emma Swan. He knows the pain of losing someone, and the way she acts does match up to the way he’d probably act if it was the anniversary of someone’s death._

_No more questions after that. His only goal is to make sure he gets a smile out of her each day, even if it means having to make fun of her until she loses her temper._

 

 

* * *

 

  


Everyone spends the day together. Together means Liam, Elsa, David, Mary Margaret, and most importantly, _Emma_.

 

The girls are all talking in their own spot, and then it’s him and the others. Liam and David ask quite a bit about how his relationship is going with Emma. He only responds in vague answers, which leave the both of them groaning at his simplicity. Killian simply shrugs with a smug smile while his eyes drift over to see her smiling and laughing. He likes seeing her smiling and laughing, and as long as that stays around her, he’ll be as happy as he needs to be. He will do everything to make sure she’s happy.

 

Once everything is done for the evening, he takes her back to his apartment, and once he closes the door behind them, he presses her against every bloody surface in his apartment, kissing her senseless with roaming hands. He’ll never get over it now that he’s had his way with her once.

 

“Killian, you need.... ugh, god... you - we - need to be up early,” she stutters.

 

He sighs, knowing she’s right. “I know,” he murmurs, pressing one more kiss to her lips, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’ve just been on my mind _all_ day, love.”

 

She smiles. “When you’re back, we can get back to it.”

 

She doesn’t say anything about that, just laughs softly with her lovely voice. Setting her down on her feet, they both head into the washroom.

 

Little needs to be said about what they actually do in the shower. With her back scraping against the tiles and his hands stationed at each side of her, his lips are strong against hers. Every little whimper and pout, or even when she hisses his name out as a threat for stopping, he feels elated.

 

The hot water dripping down the back of their spines does little to help but release tension in their muscles from the previous nights activities. According to her, she still feels an ache because it’s been far too long. Even now, he has scratches along his back which are probably red, all courtesy of Emma’s nails digging into his skin when he does something sending her to cloud nine.

 

They smile in unison, and he kisses that smile on her lips because he can’t ever get enough of the way her lips curl. And sometimes, when that smile is only for him, he melts a little on the inside. She doesn’t know what she does to him, because it’s more than the mundane.

 

“So much for even conserving any water,” she says, drying herself off with her own designated towel.

 

He shrugs since it’s nothing of his concern. “Was well worth it.”

 

Rolling her eyes at him, she whacks him with her wet towel before changing into her spare clothes for the night.

 

After getting into bed, he kisses her goodnight, and she tastes like the mint of her toothpaste, nice and fresh. “I’ll see you in four hours,” he says quietly into the dead of the night before they both fall into their deep sleep.

 

God, he’s going to be so screwed for his week without her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When those four hours fly by, he shuts off the alarm going off from his phone. Both of them stay in bed for a second longer before they start throwing clothes on, grabbing everything, and rushing out of the apartment.

 

“Do you have everything?”

 

He nods. “Aye.”

 

“Well, airport, here we come,” she mutters, turning the key where the engine starts up.

 

The entire car ride is silent since both of them are still out of energy. He relishes what moments he has left for the day before he’s going to be out of a Emma Swan for a week. He’s grown quite latched onto her since she’s been a regular in his life for quite the amount of time. The weight of the ticket in his pocket annoys him because he just wants all of this over. He can lock up the warehouse and have everything sent here to Storybrooke, then everything can go back to normal.

 

Of course, it’s not _that_ easy. There are still meetings to be made with the little remainder of board members that kept working under Liam, and he doesn’t look forward to talking with anyone. It’s all going to be about either them being excited and wanting to move over with the rest of the company, or having the worst day of their lives and getting fired because they won’t be of any use anymore.

 

When she pulls the car up to the drop off zone, he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car to head to the trunk, pulling out his suitcase.

 

“So this is it.”

 

He sighs. “Yeah.”

 

The sky is still dark, and there’s not that many cars around surprisingly. She pushes herself up onto her tippy-toes, connecting her lips with his. He sighs and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer against him. It’s nothing like a goodbye, more like a “see you later” sort of thing. When he pulls back, he smiles at her before kissing her forehead and giving her a small hug.

 

She yawns and nods. “Have a safe flight, Killian. I’ll miss you.”

 

Grinning while he flexes his fingers around the handle of his suitcase, he nods. “And I, you.”

  



	16. Chapter 16

Don't mind the lines, but during the plane trip while he stares out the window to see distant figures of buildings, light, and nature, he finds himself thinking about Emma already. It's no surprise to him his mind is going to be revolving around her, but he needs to be at his best behaviour and self to get everything settled professionally. The need of sophistication and reality still come into play, and neither of them should be ignored or set from his mind.

 

When it's announced that phones and other electrical devices can be used, he's grateful for that. Immediately, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Emma.

 

_Killian: Currently on the flight to England. I'd wager you're asleep, but if you're anything like me at the moment, you're too busy with another thought occupying your mind._

 

And within two seconds, there's a response.

 

_Emma: Yeah, I'm not really sleeping or doing anything. Just got back, actually. Enjoying your flight?_

_Killian: Hardly, love. But, at least I don't have a petulant child kicking my seat or some grumpy old man snoring next to me._

_Emma: You should get rest._

_Killian: It's difficult to do that, Emma._

_Emma: I know... but still._

 

_Killian: Will it make you feel better if I go to sleep?_

_Emma: Yes._

_Killian: As you wish. I'll talk to you soon, Swan._

_Emma: Okay. Best of luck._

 

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he yawns just at the moment he leans his head back, closing his eyes. It's going to be a long flight of approximately eight hours. He may as well get some bit of sleep during the flight then.

 

His sleep is plagued with thoughts of her, but it's not bad thoughts. It's memories, feelings, simple things in life that he's been lucky to share and experience with her.  It's not something he enjoys, sleeping out of his own bed - or any type of bed for that matter - but it's only for a couple of hours, and then he'll be back at their old house. Well, his brother and Elsa's house. It's the place he's going to be staying, which is far better than spending more money on a hotel.

 

The PA cracks on which wakes him from his sleep. There's less than ten minutes to landing, finally, as he rubs his eyes and looks out the window. It's the afternoon right now. Checking his phone for the last time, there's a message from Emma

 

_Emma: Liam wants you to message him on Skype when you're settled in._

_Killian: Well, I've landed safely, but tell him I will as soon as I can._

 

He grins at the message before hitting send and shutting his phone off and putting it away again, getting ready for landing. His neck is somewhat sore from the position he'd been sleeping in earlier, but now that he's back in England (save for the rainy weather), he's still happy. Everything is moving over to a place where he can call home, where Emma and the little of his family is. There's no way a man like him can't be happy since everything is actually turning out quite well.

 

And if it wasn't for him moving out to America, he would have never landed where he is now.

 

_Happy._

 

 

* * *

 

 

The taxi ride to the house is one thing, but the familiar streets that are still in his brain as he's being driven down the roads - really nostalgic. Unlocking the front door with the key Liam gave him, he's hit with another wave of familiarity. There are still untouched items, and the house needs to be cleaned. It's been vacant for quite the time now. The same framed pictures from when he first left England still sit on the shelves, the same paintings still hanging on the walls in the living room or in the hallways. For just a couple of moments, he lets himself roam through the house.

 

He remembers his old bedroom down the hall and how it has it's own conjoined bathroom. Old memories never fade because he can still remember when his mother used to cook food in the kitchen, but all of the counters and surfaces have a thin sheet of dust on top of them. He remembers when they're mother passed, and the house was left to the two brothers. With a sigh and a brief close of his eyes from all these flooding memories of both the good and the bad, he moves on, taking his suitcase, rolling it down the hall and into his old room.

 

It's as he first left it. Bed still clean, though everything else needs a little bit of care-taking. He'll get to that later.

 

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he takes it out to see of course another text from Emma.

 

_Emma: That's good to hear. How's the house? Liam told me you guys grew up in it._

_Killian: I'd much rather actually talk about it than text._

 

_Emma: Okay._

 

And within a couple of seconds, his phone goes off. Thank god he even has service.

 

"Hi."

 

"Hi yourself," he responds, chuckling. "But what Liam told you was true. We grew up in this house."

 

"How does it feel?" she asks.

 

He wonders if she's sitting in the station alone with her phone pressed against her ear as she lazily spins a pen. "Same old, I suppose." He shrugs to himself as he begins to roam down the hallway again, his fingers skimming against the familiar hardness of the wall. "I wish you were here with me."

 

She laughs, and even with the distance between them, that they're talking through the phone, he can feel her body moves against his whenever she laughs. "Yeah, well too bad I'm stuck here in Storybrooke while you get to be in good old England for a week," she responds. "Besides, you're probably going to have plenty of spare time in between meetings and stuff - it's not like everything you're doing there is gonna end up being work related."

 

"That's quite true," he murmurs, his eyes scanning the living room. The TV has changed of course, and so has the couch, but the placement in the room remains the same. "I'd much rather just talk to you during my leisure time than go out. Nothing has changed that much anyways, I have no reason to explore the country any further. I'll pay a visit to the company grounds, but that'll be the limit of my travel."

 

"You really just want to get back, don't you?"

 

"Aye, love."

 

He listens to the huff of breath she does on her side, and he smiles a little. "Robin and Regina are getting pretty serious."

 

"Oh, don't even mention that to me, lass, I know all about it." The both of them laugh in unison. "I've only been gone for approximately ten hours, it's not like I don't know all the news around town still."

 

"I know," she retorts quietly. "I'm not used to this... distance."

 

"Me neither."

 

"God, this feels so weird because I'm used to having you sitting across from me, or you bringing me my grilled cheese, onion rings, and coffee. My usual routine is completely off track," she complains, though he understands exactly where she's coming from. "And I have to put up with it for a seven days."

 

"Just as I." He glances out the front window to the yard, remembering the times he's spent out on the porch after a tiring day of school, or when his mother taught him about gardening. "I'm not going to be used to having seven days without you next to me in bed... or making you your favourite hot chocolate and cinnamon after a suddenly busy day at the station when you don't want to get off the couch." He chuckles to himself, shaking his head lightly. "Or how I nearly ravished you on the kitchen counter... or was it dinner table?"

 

"Shut up," she mutters. He knows she's probably rolling her eyes. "You should call your brother or something. He's probably wondering about you."

 

"He can wait," he insists.

 

" _Killian_ ," she says in a warning tone.

 

" _Emma_ ," he drawls, begging her. "I miss you. Let me just speak to you for a bit longer."

 

"Okay, fine, about what?"

 

"How are things between you and Elsa? You two seem to be rather close now. I don't know if I should be jealous or not."

 

This time, her laughter is a bit more like a scoff, though not categorized to that point completely. "Good. We have a lot in common, actually, and on the plus side, we actually get along well without any issues." She sighs. "But sometimes the baby doesn't really let her do much. It's sort of odd to hang around a pregnant woman who'll have a sudden mood change, or when she has the need to go to the washroom. I don't blame her of course, but I'm not used to that either. I have to get used to a lot of things."

 

He has no recollection of some items that are on shelves or counters, but he doesn't make a move to dare touch them. With the family moving to Storybrooke, he knows it's best to leave things as they are and for them to sort out once they get the chance. Which will be another month or two until the baby arrives. And even after that because they'll have to deal with that child until they're old enough to not be a bundle of cries and refusal of sleep.

 

Returning back to his bedroom, he falls onto the bed and stares up at the blank ceiling surrounded by the navy blue walls.

 

"Killian?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"You're okay, right? I know you... have a history you don't like to go into specifics about, as do I... but you're back at the place you spent your childhood at. Does it hurt at all? Remembering all of that type of stuff?"

 

He smiles, knowing her concern means the world to him. "Well, love, you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. These set of memories are distant now, and with time, the pain nullifies - though by no means is it completely gone." He shoves one hand under his pillow, turning onto his side and staring out the window. "How much did I tell you again?"

 

There's a pause.

 

"I think I recall you telling me you two were orphans, no family left... or friends for that matter."

 

"Ah, that. Correct as it is. My mother, she took care of my brother and I for a good chunk of our childhood, but I was still quite a wee lad. Maybe eight or nine." He closes his eyes. "But she grew ill and passed when I was around thirteen. Liam was seventeen at the time, so he managed to pull off taking care of me and keeping the house. Our mother left quite the threshold of money for us, and when he found it, the both of us were surprised she even saved up that much - as if she knew it would happen soon. Our father was hardly in the picture - alcoholic at best."

 

"Wow, that sounds -"

 

He takes in a deep breath. "Bad? I know, Swan, I know."

 

"No, well, the dad not being a part of any of your family sounds bad, but... your mother wasn't. I mean, at least you have had real family - and still do."

 

It doesn't help to remember that Emma doesn't know a single thing about her real parents. That it had been far too difficult for her even when she moved in with David. "I suppose it is better than nothing."

 

"I need to go, there's been a break in at the Pawn Shop."

 

He groans. He's never liked Gold that much, but he keeps his distance which is fine by him. "Seems quite weird."

 

"Yeah, but I'll talk to you later. Bye, Killian."

 

"Emma, wait."

 

She sighs. "What?"

 

"I miss you," he murmurs.

 

"I miss you too."

 

It's as far as he'll ever get to saying: _I love you_ , without actually saying it. He just hopes that she can see the multitude of meanings sitting behind "I miss you."

 

 

* * *

 

 

He spends the remainder of his day cleaning up and actually talking to Liam. His mind is swimming in so many thoughts, it's difficult for him to even focus on whatever his current task is. ("Of course I miss her already," he mutters as he sorts some food into the fridge after shopping. "You're in this for the long haul, aren't you, little brother?" He chuckles. "Younger brother, Liam, but aye, you have no idea.") He smiles as he recalls the conversation from earlier as he flops into bed.

 

It's later than it should be, he should be sleeping by now, and he knows Emma and the others are gonna be up in a couple of hours. He's still on American timezone, so adjusting to the time in England is going to take a while.

 

He has a dreamless sleep, but it doesn't mean Emma's not on his mind. She's woven into his brain and there's no way to get her out of it.

 

In the morning when the alarm goes off, he flips in bed before hitting snooze. "Best to get this all over with," he mutters, digging the heel of his hands into his eyes before dragging himself out of bed. He's still surprised he doesn't have as much jet lag compared to the first time he was on a plane.

 

If it means dressing in a suit and tie, so be it, he's got it all covered. Digging out his clothes for the day which is literally is a black and white suit, he sighs. He hasn't worn this much except for the occasion, but now that occasion is calling and he's got no other choice but to seem fancy and professional.

 

An odd rush of emotions that he can pin on burns inside of him when he walks into the old building. Everything is practically as much as when he'd first saw it. Brochures, pictures, the secretary desk, the hallway that leads to the office of where the both of them used to work at everyday. As vivid as everything is, as much as he's missed this, he'll never regret leaving.

 

Everyone arrives in the meeting room and takes their seats. There's nothing much to discuss besides the new plans for the company's relocation and if people want to follow along or not.

 

"It is precisely up to your decision whether you'd like to leave and continue on with a new job, or perhaps pack up your stuff and move to Storybrooke." He shrugs, keeping his lips in a straight line as he examines the looks exchanged between co-workers, familiar and unfamiliar. "There is nothing mandatory, so not Liam, nor I, will blame you if you'd like to stay here."

 

"Say we'd like to head there... how are expenses being covered?" one voice asks.

 

He sighs, rubbing his hands together. "Well, we've made quite the fortune here, but it'll depend on the amount of people wanting to take the trip with us. Each person will get an equal share to cover a partial of their flight fee. You all have two days to decide. Any more questions?"

 

All of them shake their heads.

 

"Very well." He sighs. "Dismissed."

 

After everyone leaves (bloody one hour discussion), he drops back down in the seat and closes his eyes. He was never into business that much - more involved with the actual sailing itself. Don't blame him for being engrossed in something much more intriguing than talking and paperwork. Even if his job involved paperwork now, it's far less than what's been done in the past back as a CEO - though he's representing his brother now.

 

Hands in his pants pockets, he strolls down to the docks, still remembering the path there. There are still two ships docked, and of course it's The Jolly Roger and the personal one Liam owns. The Jolly has always been his favourite (despite the childish name from Peter Pan), since it's where he practically everything. Though the ship has been modernized a bit more, she's still a marvel nonetheless, and it doesn't break him whatsoever to see that it's been taken care of and fixed up.

 

Boarding the ship slowly, he lets his hand smooth over the hard wooden material. The boards under his feet no longer creak as much as they used to, and to be honest, he sort of misses that sound. It presented her more as antique and real, but there's no blame to be put on them fixing it. It's only when he's in the Captain's Cabin does he remember the nights he's spent in it after leaving their house in the middle of the night because he needed his own time to think and figure out what he wanted to do.

 

Books are still set in the shelf in the corner, the table in the back-center of the room with an old lamp securely placed. The gentle rocking beneath his feet are just a reminder that he still loves to sail, and that is something that'll remain unchanged in his life.

 

Once he's had enough time brooding about the ship, he takes a picture of her and sends it to Emma, in hopes that she'll see it soon.

 

_Killian: Behold, The Jolly Roger._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple more chapters before an epilogue. (And maybe other stuff after that too if you're still interested in seeing them in this verse.)


	17. Chapter 17

_Emma: Really? That's what it's named?_

_Killian: It's not wise to insult a man's ship, love. Besides, it's a 'she.'_

_Emma: Right, ships have a gender. I forgot._

_Killian: It is clear that either Liam, or I, shall be educating you all about them because that is not a mistake to be made, Swan._

_Emma: Oh, wow, great. Thanks for punishing me... Shouldn't you be sleeping?_

_Killian: I should, but I'm not. I mean, I am in bed though, does that count?_

_Emma: For Christ's sake, Killian, go to sleep._

_Killian: Fine, m'lady, I'll do as you wish._

_Emma: Sweet dreams, mate._

 

_Killian: Oh, they'll definitely be sweet dreams._

 

Chuckling as he sets his phone aside for the night, he pulls the covers up and turns in bed, paying unfair attention to the empty space next to him. As much as he'd like someone - Emma - to occupy it, he'll only have to get through another couple of days before he's on a plane back to New York. He yawns as he glares at the red numbers across from him, smiling before he drifts to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When she doesn't respond to any calls, he begins to worry. He hasn't specifically paid attention to the date, but the memory remains as he quickly tries to recover from his own bland stupidity. Today is the day Graham passed away, of course she's not going to answer any messages or calls. He knows better than this, but he's just been so happy and caught up with everything, he's simply forgotten.

 

In an effort, he at least sends one text to her.

 

_Killian: I've forgotten what today was. I'm sorry, Emma, I wish I could be there with you. Maybe in the stars tonight?_

 

And for the rest of his day, it goes just about as normal. He checks up on the warehouse, but unlocking that huge room with a wave of cool air flushing out of it, well, it's just been quite the time he's missed all of this sort of stuff. There are items stacked in their rightful places, and though things have been altered and changed since the last time he even stepped foot near this warehouse, it doesn't cease to amaze him how successful their sailing company even progressed.

 

His phone goes off.

 

_Incoming Call: Emma Swan_

 

Of course he picks it up.

 

"Hey," she says, quieter than usual.

 

He sighs. "Hey. I assume you got... well the many texts I've sent?"

 

"Yeah, I just... needed time to myself this morning. But really? The stars?"

 

He laughs, his feet cautiously guiding him through the well-kept, organized warehouse. "Sorry love, I'll always have a little sailor, or say, _pirate_ , in me. Besides, you couldn't have forgotten our date when I taught you about the stars, right?"

 

"Of course I haven't forgotten," she responds, though her voice wavers slightly. "I mean, it was... one of the best dates I've been on." He can almost imagine her shrugging while shaking her head. "I just feel dumb for even still mourning Graham's death for the fourth year now. I mean, I'm well over it, but there's just this feeling I get in the morning on the anniversary of his passing." She sighs.

 

"It's nothing to feel dumb about," he assures her, wishing he could reach out and hold her hand, or anything for that matter. "All natural, I can promise you that."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah." He starts heading back to the entrance of the warehouse. "Trust me, I spent years over my mother's death," he tells her honestly, figuring that there's nothing for him to hide now, "as did Liam."

 

"And how did you get over it?"

 

"I suppose I was never really over it, that'd simply be wizardry if you could ever completely get over losing someone you cared for." He shoves the key into the lock after closing the set of doors. "But I think what helped was the people I was around," he says, "because they helped to remind me there are better things to do than sit around and sulk."

 

There's a couple moments of silence, and he's unsure (even now) whether he should say something because maybe she's thinking, trying to drink in the advice he's given her. "You're right. I mean, I've felt a little lighter this time around because of the amount of people that really support me."

 

"You have plenty to live for, Swan. David and Mary Margaret, Ruby, Liam and Elsa..."

 

" _You_."

 

He can't help but grin when he's walking back to the house. "Aye, me."

 

He is beyond happy to hear that she believes he's part of that entire list. It's not that he's uncertain of his own affections, he knows she still wants to take it slow, despite the moments they spent in the shower or in bed before he left. And because of that, he respects her wishes, never wanting to force anything onto her, never wanting to disregard what she truly feels herself.

 

"It's nine in the morning and I'm still in bed," she mutters. "Should I head out?"

 

"Perhaps you should spend some time with my brother and Elsa?"

 

"That sounds like a... good idea."

 

"Well make sure to have some fun, love."

 

"Thanks for the advice, by the way."

 

"You're most welcome, darling."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not evens surprising when Emma tells him that Liam wants to meet with him once he’s back on American soil. Perhaps it’s because he knows that he’d want to discuss things with him about the company - possibly about retaining his position as CEO once again or not. It’s a difficult decision, because as much as he loves one thing, he does enjoy his time as a deputy of Storybrooke as well. He’ll talk to Emma about that, it’s the point where he likes to be open about all this sort of stuff.

 

The last meeting of the week is officially complete, and he’s heading back tomorrow morning.

 

_Killian: All objectives have been have officially been taken care of. Be prepared for my arrival, Swan._

 

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket and changing out of his suit, he slips back into casual clothing. A plaid shirt with his leather jacket (it’s his signature clothes of course), as he packs up his suitcase. He’s finally returning back to her, and now he’s realized that he’s felt the most at _home_ whenever he has her. So as cliche as it seems, it’s only the truth that he’s finally embracing.

 

To be honest though, he’s going to miss this house once he’s back. It’s been nice taking a trip down memory lane, he can admit that.

 

At least being separated from Emma wasn't that hard. (Okay, maybe, but he won't think about that any further.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

He's not exactly awake by the time the plane lands, but he'll have to do. This time he knows jet lag is going to get him bad unlike the first ride. Yawning as he rubs the back of his neck, he's not expecting Emma to be there, he never even told her the time of his arrival. He'd much rather surprise her than anything, but knowing Emma, she must have done some research to pick up his tired arse.

 

It's late, and by the time his phone's time adjusts back, it says it's midnight. God, no wonder he's tired as hell.

 

After picking up his suitcase, he strolls down the massive halls toward the front. And thank god he has enough money to hail  a cab back to Storybrooke.

 

He's just about to pass out until the taxi pulls into the familiar main street of Storybrooke, dropping him off exactly where he's wanted. Paying the man (how does one even work crap hours like this?) he thanks him, giving him a couple extra for a tip, before dragging himself out of the taxi. After the suitcase is unloaded, he heaves his way into his apartment, barely working the keys while he's in the elevator, his eyes half-lidded and tired. (At least he doesn't experience that ear popping that some people do on planes, he's grateful for that.)

 

Trudging down the hallway, he yawns as he sticks the key into his door before swinging it open. Everything is of course as he's left it (not like Emma would do a single thing), as he slips out of his shoes and sets his suitcase aside for now. He'll deal with the unpacking later, right now, he wants to jump into bed and actually sleep properly after that plane ride.

 

He sighs - god damn it would he die to have Emma here tonight - but there's no reason for her to be sleeping in his bed when he's not there. Sort of defeats the purpose, unless she wants to enjoy the smell of his shampoo and aftershave.

 

In the morning when he's rejuvenated most of his energy, he's prepared to go pay Emma, and the others, a surprise visit. It's not that early, in fact, it's almost 11, which means she and David should be at the station or everyone is gathered at Granny's.

 

But that's not quite true.

 

Taking two steps out of his apartment, David pulls up in the cruiser with Emma in the passenger seat and in the blink of an eye, she's hugging him tightly. Smiling, he wraps his arms around her, returning the embrace just as much, taking in the scent of her familiar shampoo.

 

"You didn't tell us you were gonna be back by yesterday," David says.

 

"Ehm, well, I came in quite late - or, well, early. Was well past midnight by the time I got back to my apartment and I was exhausted." He shrugs, letting his arm snake around her waist before pressing a kiss to her temple. "Figured I'd surprise you guys, but clearly it's the other way around."

 

"Aren't you... you know... still tired?" Emma asks.

 

He laughs. "Of course I am - jet lag, mainly. The duties back in England weren't too tiresome, and if I wasn't out spectating anything, I was back in the house getting enough rest to last me through the entire week."

 

"Well, how about we discuss your trip at Granny's?"

 

"Honestly, Dave, there's nothing to discuss where anyone could ever be engaged in."

 

"Oh come on, Emma showed me The Jolly Roger, anything about her to talk about? Maybe how she came to be?"

 

He shakes his head, his fingers tightening around her waist while he flexes his jaw for a moment. "I believe that would be a story for another day, mate."

 

David nods understandingly before he nods toward the car. "So, Granny's is a yay or nay?"

 

"Perhaps later. I'd... like to spent a little time with Emma."

 

"Of course. If I had to spend an entire week without Mary Margaret I'd be wanting some time together too." David rounds the car. "Don't worry about work yet, we can get back to that tomorrow. I'll handle Gold's case."

 

"Thanks, Dave."

 

David nods before he slips into the car, the engine rumbling on, before he drives off, heading back to the station. Killian sighs, his shoulders slumping forward slightly as he's relieved he didn't ask anymore questions about the ship. He loves that ship and the story held with it, but he's not particularly interested in the notion of telling him his past.

 

"You okay?"

 

He turns his head to look down at her, and with a small smile and nod, he answers, "Aye.” He takes a breath. “I will be, at least."

 

 

* * *

 

 

They walk for an endless amount of time through town and a majority of that time isn't spent uttering a single word to each other. Their hands together, palm facing palm, her hand just as warm and memorable as before. Her arm and shoulder softly brushing against his every time, or how he hears her sigh a breath (hopefully of contentment). Their movements in sync exactly.

 

They don't need to speak to understand each other. It's in fact the comfortable silence they can settle in which is a good sign.

 

However, at times like these, he desires to say the three words neither of them had spoken out yet. Although he knows how much he loves her - he'd do anything in the world for her, walk through heaven and hell - he knows risking it can make her run off. He doesn't want that, so, he'll silently give that support to her, show her how much he cares. That even if they first started because of faking, it's only really starting because he feels a certain way for her.

 

Breathe in, breathe out.

 

"When David asked you about The Jolly... you reacted," she murmurs, her hand squeezing his gently. "I guess it's something you're not too keen on discussing with others?"

 

"No, Swan, it's something I'm not too keen with discussing with David, even if he's one of my best mates," he responds honestly, keeping his eyes forward at the large view. Their shoes are buried in the sand, the waves are hitting the rocks, but everything still fades to her.

 

"Oh."

 

He sighs. "A man has his secrets to be kept."

 

"I understand," she tells him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "A woman does too."

 

He smiles, pressing his lips into her soft hair. He wants to say it.

 

_I. Love. You._

 

"I missed this," is what comes out of his mouth instead, the words rolling off of his tongue that easily. "Well, we never really did this with our tight schedules, but I'd like to do this more often."

 

She hums, that small voice of hers crashing with the sound of the water that's not far away from them. "I guess."

 

"The Jolly Roger was not only my ship, but it was... like a second home, I suppose. Temporary at the most." He turns his head back to the front, staring out at the horizon which is blurred by mist. "Was a place to take solitude, to focus, to relax when the house wasn't what I needed. Sometimes I'd have fallen asleep and Liam would walk in with his brotherly tone, nagging about how he was worried." He laughs at the memory, using his available hand to rub behind his ear. "He taught me all about the stars and the sea on that ship so it holds many memories."

 

"Sounds like a lot of fun to me," she inputs.

 

He nods. "But when I left England, I left it all behind. Was a difficult decision to make, leaving the one thing I truly cherished and loved to my past."

 

He can feel her gaze, and he returns it when he glances back down at her. "But _she’s_ coming back, right? You're bringing her to Storybrooke."

 

It's practically a grin that spreads across his face at the tone of her enthusiasm, or even that hope. He even dares to hope he'll be able to show her everything about The Jolly. He hopes he'll be able to make just as many new memories on that ship such as the old. "Aye, she's coming to Storybrooke in two weeks."

 

"Exciting," she murmurs.

 

She advances forward and before he realizes, he meets her halfway in a small kiss - well, it was a small kiss before his hand untangles from her hand and into her hair, the familiarity of her silky strands slipping between his fingers. When they part for the slightest moment, he's breathing this in (just as she), before he dives back in again. He missed her far more than he's anticipated now that he really thinks about it. Even between the late (or early) texts and short phone calls, it's never enough to satisfy him completely.

 

His tongue gliding over her lower lip, it's not until the little sound that comes from the back of her throat, reminds him that they're still in public, though no one ever really passes by the beach. He pulls back against his own will - he wants _more_ \- before things get out of hand. Resting his forehead against hers, he smiles, his movements still languid after the moment they've shared.

 

"I thought I was happy before us," he says in a hushed tone. "Well, I was, but you have made me even more happy."

 

Huffing a breath, her fingers still tugging at the messy hair at the nape of his neck, she laughs, softly.

 

(He'll never tire of a smile or laugh from Emma Swan.)

 

"Yeah, well, you make me happy too, Killian."

 

He's never been so elated to hear words like that ever before - let alone knowing it’s out of her mouth. He swoops in and kisses her one last time before he slides his hand down her forearm, letting his fingers slip in between hers, giving them a small squeeze.

 

"So, Swan, what do you want to do now?"

 

"I recall a certain pirate saying he'd have to educate me on my ships." Laughing halfway, she shakes her head. "But first, don't you want to go check in on your brother? I mean, it's sort of mandatory... you did just come back from a business trip he was supposed to attend to."

 

"Right you are, love. Come with me?"

 

She nods. "Sure."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Granny and Ruby shower the both of them with food when they walk into the diner, and he has no way of politely declining such generous gifts, so he accepts the food graciously. He doesn't know how to describe his mood; inexplicably full of joy? Something like that.

 

Elsa gives Killian a hug, though it's difficult due to the bump getting in the way, but they manage. Liam hugs him too, smiling undoubtedly because his younger brother has been reunited with his lover.

 

"I reckon everything is a success?"

 

"Aye. Everything's ready."

 

Liam grins, patting Killian's shoulder. "Fantastic work. At this rate, everything will be in within the next two weeks, and by then, once everything here has been settled, we'll be back in business."

 

"You've discussed everything with Mayor Mills, right?"

 

Liam nods. "A long time ago, yes. She was... quite the intriguing woman who seemed rather cold - at least until that mate of yours, Robin, came along."

 

"Ah, right. Locksley has gotten her under his hands I suppose." Killian shrugs, his eyes darting over to see Emma talking to Elsa. He's back to facing Liam before he can question it though. "Have you gotten a due date on the baby yet?"

 

"Another week," Liam answers. "Excited to be an uncle?"

 

"Oh, I'm not sure. I've never quite worked with babies before." There's a sarcastic tone to his voice and the both of them laugh. "You two have been looking at lodgings recently?"

 

"Yeah, and we found a place while you were gone." Liam crosses his arms over his chest. "Don't worry, we've got everything already in the house. It's close to the docks, so it'll make things easier for work. Speaking of houses, what's going on between you and Emma?"

 

Quirking a brow at his question, he shakes his head subtly. "What do you mean?"

 

"The next step? You've been together for a while now, right?"

 

"Aye, but that doesn't equate us to taking the next step yet. I'm abiding to her wishes of taking it slow, and until she hints toward herself being ready, that's not going to change." He shrugs. "Her happiness is mine."

 

"She's had quite the impact on you," Liam mutters, "no longer the little brother who was too stubborn to go after women."

 

"Are you two going to keep talking or can we all eat?" Elsa calls from the booth.

 

Glaring at each other, they turn with a smile toward the table, slipping beside their significant other.  His arm is haphazardly around Emma's shoulders and the entire atmosphere between everyone is light - this is what he's wanted all along, and now he's finally noticed. He wants to interact with other people easily without having to worry of screwing up - this is real.

 

He wants to kiss her, hold her hand, hug her, comfort her, and do everything for her just to make sure that green gaze of hers stays in the right mood. He's willing to lay his life on the line to just having petty arguments about something childish. His life's objective after Milah had simply been to be happy, and now that he is (he's beyond simple happiness),  he wants to just be able to enjoy the remainder of his life with her. He wants to tell her every day about how she's beautiful - despite the messy hair and dark circles under her eyes after a tiring day - or tell her (at every moment he gets), about how much he loves her.

 

If things hadn't gone the way they did back then, maybe he'd be able to say the words without scaring her off. But if they didn't go the way they did, then he wouldn't be sitting comfortably next to Emma Swan, conversing with the little family he still has. The future is always a mystery, he knows that. It wasn't a part of his plan to fall in love with her - it was out of his own control. Meeting her was a choice, and so was being friends, but this was simply out of his own hands. He can't help but enjoy the smile glowing on her face while she holds her gaze at him. He can't help but be thrilled whenever he's in her presence.

 

"Emma, we were thinking about making you this child's godmother," Elsa exclaims cheerfully.

 

And the moment that sentence is spoken, he feels his Swan tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops, cliffhanger.


	18. Chapter 18

"I - wow," she huffs out, seemingly at a loss of words. "That's... quite a lot of faith you're putting in me, guys."

 

He notices her careful choice of words, and if anything, he knows she's just nervous about the entire thought. Perhaps her bitter past is haunting her a bit now, and with the mention of children, it's gotten her panicking more than it should be.

 

"We know," Liam states, "but we trust you just as much as Killian trusts you."

 

He can hear the small, sharp intake of a breath. "Really?" Emma asks.

 

"Really," Liam assures with a nod and smile.

 

"Love," he starts carefully, "if my brother and Elsa is trusting you to be the bloody Godmother of this child who's going to be either my niece or nephew... then you may as well prepare for endless amounts of torture."

 

She laughs and he grins just as lovingly (because god damn does he love her a lot), pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

 

"I see your humour hasn't settled," Liam mutters, rolling his eyes. "But really, Emma, we'd love it if you'd be his or her Godmother - do take your time to think about it, though. We know it might be a label of pressure, however if it makes you feel any better, Killian is probably just as scared as a -"

 

Killian interjects, "Don't go there, _brother_."

 

"Ah, right, sorry lad, forgot that it's been a sensitive topic ever since high school."

 

He knows Liam is stifling in his laughter just as there's curious glances being exchanged between the both women. Rolling his eyes, he slouches down into his seat just a bit more, his feet nudging in between Liam's to tell him to stop the teasing.

 

"Care to explain, _Killian_?"

 

"No, love, I don't care to explain," he spits back. "If anything, Swan, I'm not going to share my embarrassing stories."

 

"Okay, okay," she concedes, turning her head back to the two in front of them. "I guess I'll just ask your brother later."

 

Two can play at that game, and if that's how she wants to play, he is up for it. "You know, I remember your _awful_ knowledge on ships and that I'd promised you that one of us need to give you a good lesson on them," Killian says, reminding her. Noticing her parted lips without a single word coming out from it, he grins because he knows he's got the leverage now. "Ah, the Swan has gone silent."

 

"Do explain, Killian."

 

"She called the ship a "it." I, of course, had to promptly correct her to say that the ship is a "she," and then I told her one of us need to educate her and expand her knowledge on ships and sailing." He lifts one shoulder lightly, laughing to himself. "I don't think she's very pleased about the idea though."

 

"Because I'm busy!" she exclaims, nudging his side.

 

"You are not," Liam inputs, taking a drink from his beer. "Storybrooke is not known for nefarious crime - at least, not enough to make your hands full."

 

She pouts quietly, letting her head drop down before she lifts it back up. "Can Elsa endure this with me?"

 

"Oh, no, I've already gone through _that_ several times considering my husband does own the sailing company in the first place." Elsa chuckles. "And the child is due very soon, so I don't think I'm fit to be listening to lectures and teachings of a boat."

 

" _Ship_ ," Liam and Killian both grumble in unison.

 

"Right, _ship_ ," Elsa mutters, shaking her head.  "I don't know how I manage with him. How do you do it with Killian?"

 

"I just take it." Emma shrugs, huffing a breath before she turns to look at him, and he's smiling at her. "Because it's pointless to go against him."

 

"Glad to know you let me take the victory, love."

 

"What - do you want me to retaliate like a sixteen year old rebellious teenager with attitude? I'll be more than glad to do that if you want."

 

He leans toward her, whispering into her ear, "Well, that allows room for _punishment_ , darling."

 

"Oh my _god_ ," she groans, dropping her face into her hand.

 

"You two are too adorable!"

 

_Mary Margaret._

 

 

* * *

 

 

If shopping could be any worse, he'd know by now.

 

Trying to find anything available and fitting for children on the little variety they have in Storybrooke is one thing, but at least he's not doing it alone. In fact, he's strolling through the aisles and weaving between baby clothes with Emma, glancing at most things and taking a good minute to think about whether it's a good gift or not. If everything hadn't had a schedule change, they would have bought something already, but life changes and now they're doing some last two days shopping.

 

At least they think it's two days - perhaps more since the due date may be off.

 

"Why couldn't they have told us the kid's gender earlier?" she mutters, her hands skimming through clothes.

 

He laughs. "Everything is happening fast, love, I can't blame them for forgetting after they _finally_ decided to check the sex." He shrugs. Finding a little onesie with ships on it, it's definitely going on his shopping list. "It shouldn't be that hard to find him clothes. Look." He holds up the small blue onesie.

 

"Of course you're getting the one with ships on them," she says, "but I think I'll get him a toy then. You got the clothes part covered, I got the toys."

 

"Perfect."

 

"Now, who's paying?"

 

"I suppose you pay for the toy, I pay for the clothes?" he suggests. "Or I could pay for both."

 

"You are not pulling gentleman mode on right now," she grumbles, her feet taking her toward the toy section. He follows shortly behind her. "We'll just pay separately."

 

He can't help but wonder about his future with her. If they'll have children and bicker about the choice of clothes or the colour of the walls. Or maybe even how the placement of furniture is off. "As you wish," comes out of his mouth softly as he watches her go through the toys.

 

It's not wrong of him to dream of a future, but it's also not wrong of him to wonder how... well, scared Emma is to the thought of serious commitment into marriage, or having to take care of children every day. Sometimes, he's able to dream of her holding a young child - messy blonde hair with blue eyes, or even dark hair with green eyes, either works, really - when they're having one of those crying days, refusing to go to sleep. On other times, he's able to dream of her groaning in frustration after a rough day, hardly getting sleep, and still having to tend to the child. And whether or not she likes it, he can see himself kissing her forehead and telling her to _get rest, love_ before climbing out of bed himself.

 

As much as he dares to dream of such a future already, it's only simply his mind wandering off to other places to explore. He definitely doesn't mind some exploration on that part because he'd really love to know.  And besides, with the lad coming within the next couple of days - two days, approximately - he can imagine her taking the role of the godmother, the one who'll take care and babysit when no one else can, and perhaps he'll tag along since he is the uncle. They'll do it together as a team since they've done _everything_ as a team since the beginning anyways - it would make no difference.

 

If you were to ask Killian Jones if he was in love with Emma Swan only a couple months ago, he'd have been completely oblivious to the idea and probably would have thought it'd be best to remain at the level of friendship. Perhaps he'll have to thank Robin and Will later for even dropping by Storybrooke - and now staying - in the first place, otherwise they'd have never gotten to explore the few depths of their relationship now. In fact, just will he even decide to tell them they were faking it the entire time? Though there was some troubles with faking it, and then it turned into something real.

 

Shaking his head, he pays for the clothes and the cashier is amusingly smirking at him. "Something amusing there, lass?"

 

"Oh, no, it's just a rare sight to catch the Sheriff and Deputy buying children's stuff."

 

Cocking an eyebrow, he shrugs. "Well, occasions call for it." The cashier sets the plastic bag with the onesie on the counter and he takes it. "Swan, hurry up!"

 

"Shut your mouth, Jones, just wait for me by the car!" she shouts back.

 

Huffing a breath, he waves goodbye to the cashier before pushing the door open and heading toward the car.  Leaning against the side, he takes a sidelong glance down main street, noticing few people stroll by. The door to Granny's jingles and even he can hear it open and close.

 

His mind wanders back and seems to meander around the thought of children. Not just the possibility of him having any children with her, but just the simplicity of taking care of all these new family member additions. First his brother's incoming child, and then Mary Margaret's. If anything, this nephew of his is going to be a spoiled little brat who'll be able to play with the Nolan's child. And perhaps in a few years - should he even _consider_ this with Emma - they'll be making an addition to all the children as well with their own little one.

 

They're all big dreams and hopes which all have a possibility of becoming true, but even if he dares to believe it to happen, he'd rather not get upset over this because it doesn't go the way he wants it to. He, of all people, knows nothing goes too smoothly for long - something always has to disrupt peace - yet he'll do everything in his power to make sure everything goes... well decently normal. Not that there's ever a consistent style of normalcy anyways.

 

"Took you long enough." He grins as the door in front of him opens up.

 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she lifts the bag up. "Got him more than one toy, so they better be grateful."

 

"Oh, they'll be _beyond_ grateful, Swan." Dipping his head, he presses a sweet kiss to her lips which he feels her smile against.

 

She finally murmurs, "We should get going."

 

Nodding, he tilts his head toward the car. "Lead the way, love."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Neither of them actually expect the baby to be _that_ on time.

 

It's all rushed voices when he picks up his phone, reluctant to leave the warmth of a body next to his. However when Liam starts talking saying Elsa's in labour, neither of them stay still. "We're on our way," he says quickly, pushing the covers out of the way as he stumbles out of bed, hearing the movement on the opposite side of him.

 

"It's too early for this."

 

He laughs, grabbing the jacket that's been neatly set aside on his chair, shrugging it on. "No time like the present, sweetheart."

 

"Oh, yeah, definitely," she agrees, rushing out of the room, him following shortly behind. "You drive. I'm half awake and I reckon doing that would be a horrible idea."

 

" _Emma_."

 

For a moment, the both of them stand there until she realizes what she's told him to do. He stares at her, his heart still pacing quickly as his eyes dart to notice her head duck and her curse under her breath.

 

"God, I forgot you haven't been driving, Killian, I'm sorry," she apologizes swiftly, rubbing her face. "I'll drive. Just, damn it, I'm so sorry."

 

"Emma." He grabs her wrist, his fingers curling around the soft skin before he pulls in for a kiss, just quick and genuine and _it's okay_. "Let's just get to the hospital, yeah?"

 

She glances up at him before she nods, slipping her boots on silently, the keys jingling in her hands as she exits the apartment. He follows shortly after, locking the door behind him before he races downstairs, taking in deep breaths.

 

He's about to be an _U_ _ncle_ and she's about to become a _G_ _odmother_.

 

In a couple of hours.

 

 _Long_ hours.

 

They don't say anything to each other, and he knows she's probably internally blaming herself for telling him to drive, but he's not mad. No, in fact, he's elated to think she even wants him to drive at all. It's not that he can't, it's just that he prefers not to. So, when they get out of the car, he immediately takes her hand in his and squeezes it, smiling down at her before kissing her temple.

 

Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

 

As excited as he is for this new life they're bringing, well Elsa's bringing into the world, he's worried about Emma. She's been a little stoic, slightly distant at the most. He doesn't know how to tell her, assure her, that her requesting for him to drive was not her fault. So he simply holds her tight by the shoulders and allows her to lean her head on it, despite the way she's keeping quiet unlike the bustling her can hear inside of the hospital room. God, those groans and muffled noises inside do not sound pleasant at all and he can't help but wonder how bad it is. He can't help but imagine Emma being in Elsa's position, him in Liam's shoes.

 

He needs to stop thinking about the future and pay attention to what's going on in front of him right now.

 

"Have you ever thought about having kids?"

 

 _God damn it, Swan, you've got some impeccable timing there_ , he thinks to himself. Sighing, he responds, "Of course. Can't say I'm fit to be a parent yet, but sometime in the near future."

 

"You'd be a great father," she murmurs.

 

His eyebrows scrunch together as he glances down at her body next to his. He grazes his thumb over her knuckles gently and listens and zones out to the evened out breath coming from beside him. "And you'd be a great mother," he whispers quietly into thin air, his head gently hitting the back of the wall. Whether she said that out of her half-asleep state or not, he can't help but imagine it again.

 

Unlike the woman who's practically now asleep against his shoulder (he's somehow got to compensate later for the horrible position she's in at the moment), all he manages to do it stay awake and stare down the hallway. Storybrooke isn't ever in need of a large hospital, so of course the place is limited in space with very little bustling around. Sighing, he glances back down at the figure next to him, her eyes shut tightly and her lips slightly parted from breathing.

 

Checking the time on his phone, it's still early, but when Liam comes strolling out of the room a couple hours later with that bright toothy grin, he can't help but smile too. He's _officially_ an Uncle. He has a nephew.

 

Well, that's going to take a hell of a lot of time to get used to.

 

He carefully lifts Emma's head of his shoulder, shaking her gently until her eyes flutter open where his gaze is met with hers. "Swan, I don't mean to rain on your parade of sleep, but the baby's here," he murmurs, pushing some strands of hair behind her ear. "Want to come see your new... godchild?"

 

"You make it sound scary," she mutters, rubbing her eyes.

 

"Perhaps it is, darling."

 

"How long did I sleep for?"

 

"Five hours, I'd wager," he guesses, shrugging as he tugs on her hand. She's about to speak until he cuts her off. "And I didn't wake you up because I knew you needed your rest. I wasn't going to deprive you of sleep, nor did I have the heart to in the first place. You look far too peaceful."

 

Rolling her eyes, she huffs out a breath before they walk into the room.

 

It's a sight to behold really; bringing in a child into this world - a life. Elsa looks mostly exhausted, but Liam is next to her cradling the newborn in his arms happily. When both Emma and him ask what his name is, Liam and Elsa share a quick glance and nod before turning back to look at the baby boy with blonde hair and dark eyes.

 

"Michael," Liam announces proudly, "Michael Jones."

 

"Sounds like the newest addition to the Jones family," Killian teases, letting Emma's hand go and wrapping it around her waist. "So, love, do you want to be the first to hold him now?"

 

"Me? No, dear god, no, you're the Uncle, you get it first," she responds quickly, shaking her head, giving him a good push toward Liam. "You're far more important."

 

He chuckles softly before he moves forward, Liam handing him the youngling. Holding him carefully, he can't help but smile so much that it literally starts to hurt his cheeks. He grabs at his finger and he looks up, motioning for Emma to come over. "Come on, Swan, come meet Michael."

 

It's hard not to smile at all the entire time they're in the room. When he finally hands him off to Emma, he notices the hesitance in her movement, her nervous gestures, her eyes aglow with wonder and light and hope. And he's in love, in love, in bloody love with her. Kissing her forehead, he lets her talk quietly with Elsa after handing the lad back to the mother while he moves over to stand in the corner of the room, conversing with Liam.

 

An hour later, they're heading back to the apartment and it's practically time for breakfast, but neither of them actually want any of that. Both of them want the bed.

 

_Killian: Emma and I shall be late today considering we just spent over six hours at the hospital. Spare us an extra two hours, will you?_

_David: Liam?_

_Killian: Aye, the child's out and about now._

_David: Congrats! And don't worry about work, I've got it covered. You guys have had a generally rough week already._

_Killian: Much thanks, mate._

 

Setting the phone away, he sheds down to his t-shirt and briefs, climbing into the bed lazily, wrapping his arms around her who's already half-asleep again.

 

"Killian?"

 

"Aye, love?"

 

"Are you happy?"

 

"If by happy you mean: inexplicably full of joy because I now have a nephew and a woman I care deeply and truly for in my bed almost every night, then aye, I am." He yawns, pressing a kiss to her forehead, feeling her breath against his skin. "And I don't regret a single moment from our past because as much as it might have been difficult and rather fake at the beginning, I'd do it - _I'd do it for you_. Again and _again_ because nothing compares to the path we've taken to being together."

 

She smiles, big and bright and warm. "Yeah? Well, I think I'd do that too - doing it for you."

 

"I mean, you did it for me in the beginning in the first place, Swan."

 

"I don't care, my point still stands."

 

"You know, love, as drowsy as we are, there's nothing I'd ever change because I love you." It takes him a moment to realize he's said it, he's officially done it now, and there's no turning back because he knows she's heard him by now.

 

"I love you, too," she whispers quietly against his chest.

 

And he means it when he says he'd do it all again, just for her. "God, _I love you_ ," he reiterates again, having to say it over and over until he realizes this is reality. But he's still not prepared to hear it when she says it again, too, up close and personal, just for him. Even that smile which is spared just for him cannot compare to hearing the words.

 

When he meets her gaze only an hour later, both of them sweaty and just a tangle of legs pressed flush against each other, he can't help but see the ferocious fire building behind them, or even the sincerity that everything in front of him is his, and reality, and perhaps just a tad bit too much for him to absorb at the moment. His heart is possibly at the point where it can stop because: _how in the world did I even end up here?_

 

"Emma," he begins, his heart still pounding against his chest just at the sight of her, "would you do me the pleasure of calling Dave to let him know that we had _other plans_ so I don't have to face his wrath?"

 

"I'd do it for you," she murmurs, "except this time is an exception. Do it yourself, Jones."

 

"Swan," he whines, "the bloke is going to sock me in the jaw for taking his assistant Sheriff from duty in order to have a good session in bed."

 

"And who invoked _that_?" she teases, her fingers tracing his jaw, him practically shivering at her gentle caresses and touches. "It's okay, I can handle him for you - as usual. Just, make sure that my _ship_ lessons are not boring."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone faring through the hiatus? OUAT returns in October and I hope it's around my birthday since my birthday lands on a Saturday this year, lol.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the epilogue. Thank you to everyone who's been following, leaving comments, etc!

It's an interesting couple of weeks after the night - wait, early morning - of his nephew. Everything seems to be going quite calmly and just in order as they've wanted it all along. Liam manages to coax him and Emma into both babysitting Michael when both Elsa and him are to do some other more important things. It's usually a quiet banter between him and Emma though; "You change the diaper!" she hisses. "No, you do it!" he retorts back immediately. These are the few times where he cannot properly work together with her, so in the end after flipping a coin, one of them have to do it, despite it being no better than any other demise they can be subjected to.

 

In spite of all that nonsense of taking care of a child who is no more than two months old, he still loves Emma more and more each day. And perhaps, Michael, loves her even more and he can't even handle that pang of jealousy when he decides to cry in his arms instead of hers.

 

"The kid's gonna change, Killian," she whispers, nudging him with her elbow from in front. "Don't worry about it. Probably in three years he's gonna want the cool Uncle who plays pirate with him instead."

 

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he peers over her shoulder at the eerily silent child in her arms. "Of course," he murmurs, "because that's exactly what I am to you. A pirate, at most."

 

Laughing, she sets Michael down into the crib that Marco created for the couple. "It's true." Shrugging, she turns around and rests her hands on his shoulders, tipping herself upwards to press a kiss to his lips.

 

Grinning as foolish as he is, he nips at her upper lip playfully before pulling apart against his own will, his hand buried in her cascading blonde curls. "So you want the pirate."

 

"Well, he is my pirate, so I've got no objections," she teases, her lips splitting to a smile.

 

"I quite like the sound of that, love," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I also like the sound of ravishing her at some point too, yeah?"

 

"Definitely not around Michael," she responds, taking his hand and dragging him down the hallway into the living room. "Or in your brother's house. Tonight back at the apartment, maybe."

 

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and dropping onto the couch in front of the fireplace. There's a breeze fluctuating itself through one of the open windows and he's too lazy to let go of Emma to go close it up. Having her in his arms is just enough to keep him warm. He notices her shiver slightly and his hands graze down her forearms, noticing the goosebumps from the draft.

 

"Cold, love?"

 

"A little, yeah," she responds quietly, letting her back meld with his chest. "Did Liam or Elsa say when they would be back?"

 

He shakes his head, his hands rubbing up and down her arms to create some warmth for her. "No specific time, unfortunately. We could end up spending the entire night here."

 

"Call him?"

 

Agreeing with her solution, he calls Liam quickly to check up. They say they'll be back in approximately one hour, and it'll be surprising enough if the kid can even manage to sleep for another hour without having to wail. "One more hour," he murmurs, shoving the phone back into his back pocket. "Sleepy?"

 

"Nah," she responds, "not yet, at least."

 

"Good, because if I plan to have my way with you tonight, I'd rather you not fall asleep on me."

 

"And you're just so sure that you'll be able to have your way with me?" she asks, her brow cocked up.

 

Twisting a couple of strands of hair with his fingers, he hums quietly, nodding. "When have you ever denied yourself the pleasure?" He smirks just as she dramatically rolls her eyes at him, blowing out a breath. "What'll it be tonight, darling? Bed? Shower? Kitchen counter?"

 

She glares at him, as if she's making sure that he's serious. "We'll see."

 

"Unsatisfactory answer, Swan," he says, his fingers moving up to brush her cheeks. "I prefer a woman who knows what she wants."

 

"Oh, I _know_ my answer, Captain," she hisses back, her eyes narrowing at him. "You're just going to have to wait. Be patient, Jones."

 

"Bloody hell," he grumbles, "you minx."

 

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't particularly like having to work extra hours late at night to compensate for the lack of work he's been doing as a Deputy, but he also can't complain because this is still his job - nothing has changed from that part. When he's stuck sitting in the station spinning a pen while he stares at the crossword in the newspaper, his mind starts to drift in the completely opposite direction.

 

It's done no justice for him that Emma spends far more time in his bed and apartment than they used to, sharing everything as if they're already married, but that's not the case. Suddenly, he sets the pen back onto the table and flips through the newspaper, noticing the listings of houses and apartments. _Perhaps it's time I take a leap of faith and ask Swan_ , he thinks, rubbing the back of his neck as he leans back casually in the chair, eyeing the list of open lodgings. As much as he adores spending time with her in his bed and apartment, he'd much rather have a space that's solely theirs, with possible additions later on.

 

There's not a drop of doubt between the love they share - it seems endless, honestly - since they can hardly let each other go in the morning after an intense night. Not just job-wise, either. And recently, they've been quite open with their feelings and thoughts, keeping less things from each other - definitely no lies between them this time around.

 

When he finds himself back at the apartment late (or _early_ ) he notices that Emma's in his - well, probably their - bed by now, curled up with the sheets tucked in around her, her lips partially parted as she breathes. Smiling, he shakes his head as he goes to brush his teeth quickly before sliding himself into the bed next to her, gently wrapping an arm around her middle and pressing her back against his chest.

 

"Killian?"

 

"Sleep," he murmurs against her neck, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Just sleep."

 

She hums, that similar sound he's grown very fond of. "Love you," she breathes out.

 

Smiling, he presses his lips into her hair, whispering, "I love you, too." He's not going to tire of hearing or saying those words. _Ever_.

 

A partial split between the sun and the bed is never granted to be a good decision. He wakes just as normal, though slightly earlier than usual with the same body pressed against his. He notices the subtle rise of her body from her breaths and the way she's curled herself up like a dog. As strong, persistent and stubborn she can be, she's definitely a completely different person in private.

 

Not that he minds, of course.

 

He carefully removes himself from the bed, tucking the sheets back to her. His sweatpants are hanging low and he's aware of that but he's also aware he wants coffee this morning, so he pads his way through the hallway quietly to the kitchen. Grabbing two mugs - one has already been specified and claimed by Emma - and he sets it down as he hits the button on the coffee machine, setting the

 

While all that coffee business goes down, he taps his fingers away at the counter, watching the steam come from the hot liquid being poured into the mug. And it smells fantastic - what a wonderful scent to take in early in the morning; just as much as he loves the fragrance in her hair, or the faint scent of... flowery soap on her smooth skin. He simply loves _every_ part of her.

 

"You're up too early."

 

He tilts his head toward the side to catch her hugging her arms around herself, her face still groggy and her voice still thick of sleep. Chuckling to himself, he turns his head back to the coffee. "Or perhaps you're up too _late_."

 

She scoffs, bobbing her head toward the clock hanging above the TV in the living room. "It's not even six yet."

 

"Go back to bed?" he suggests, shrugging as he reaches to the mug. "Coffee?"

 

"You just told me to go back to bed and offered me coffee. I don't think that's chronologically correct," she says, rubbing her eyes.

 

" _Hey_ , take it or leave it, love." He grins when she moves forward, snatching the mug of dark coffee out of his hands. "That's right."

 

She makes eyes at him before she shuffles her way around the kitchen and into the living room, plopping onto the couch. He follows behind her, and he wonders if this could be the rest of his life. Just waking up in the morning with lazy smiles or frustrated groans in bed before showering and brushing their teeth, which then leads to having breakfast together because that's what normal couples do. Pft, _normal_. (They're the opposite, considering how they got together in the first place.)

 

Sometimes, he still has to pinch himself to realize this woman has already started to give herself over to him, despite his best efforts are resisting all of this beforehand.

 

"Emma?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"What would you think about moving in together?"

 

"I think..." she trails off, taking a moment to compose an appropriate response. She sighs, setting the mug down on the coffee table. "It's not a bad idea."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You finally asked her to move in with you?" Robin asks, clinking his glass against his.

 

He scoffs, shaking his head as he swirls the drink. "I said moving in together, not specifically with me at our current living circumstances," he responds, lifting the drink to his lips, allowing the rum to drain down. "I've been thinking of maybe finding a place, a larger place, you know? Can't stick to living in a tiny apartment forever - doesn't seem quite ideal."

 

"Right," Robin murmurs, staring down his glass. "So what did she say? She didn't run out on you, did she?"

 

"No," he answers, "she did not. In fact, she favoured the idea with a smile, so I take it that she wouldn't mind if I started to look for better living arrangements." He shrugs, leaning forward on the counter, his elbows supporting him. "Enough talk about me and Swan; what about you and Miss Mills?"

 

"Good... mostly."

 

He raises a brow at his vague and hesitant response. "You sound uncertain. I thought you two were on quite good terms."

 

"You're not wrong, we are on good terms. She's... great, sometimes prickly, but great. However, she still seems to doubt my intentions toward her slightly, as if she doesn't believe she can love me or something." Robin sighs longingly, closing his eyes. "I wish she'd see that she's happy and that she should allow herself to keep being happy."

 

"Prove it to her, mate. Women can be like that - stubborn and headstrong - until they open their eyes," he advises to his friend, taking a sip of his rum. "I had to prove to Emma that I wasn't going to hurt her multiple times before she finally decided to trust me and believe what I'd promised her. Talk to her, tell her about setting their own pace and figuring things out time at a time. Besides, if anyone can really get to Miss Mills, it'd be you, Locksley."

 

Robin laughs, a sound that he's been familiar with for ages. "So where's your lady - now that I think of it?"

 

"Babysitting," he responds.

 

"Ah."

 

"And yes, I'm the one here drinking with my mate instead of being there with her even when I'm the Uncle. Irresponsible? Maybe." He drains the remainder of his rum down, the feeling burning his throat slightly."I promised I'd drop by later, though."

 

"Don't drop by wasted, Killian," Robin quips.

 

He rolls his eyes at his friend's joke. "I can handle my own rum, thank you very much."

 

"You know, if you never got together with Emma, I'd never be here and with Regina." Robin sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

"Ahem, about that," Killian starts, scratching behind his ear, "we weren't actually dating when you two blokes came here. It was all a ruse in the beginning -"

 

"You _lied_?"

 

" _Faked_ , Locksley. And I'm not faking it now, so cut me some slack. I just wanted you two off my backs from the entire, "let's hook him up with someone" plan. I wanted to do everything on my own time." He laughs, shaking his head at the memories. "And now I have it. We both love each other and we're really bloody happy with our lives. In fact, I'd like to thank you two for coming otherwise I'd have never gotten the gut to ask her out at all, despite the charming person I am."

 

"Does you brother know that?"

 

"No."

 

Robin's mouth forms an 'o' shape before turning back to his amber coloured drink. "I think we both need to thank each other, then."

 

Robin lifts his glass to Killian’s, clinking them together.

 

"Cheers."

 

Robin mutters, "It's all in the past now. We've both got our women."

 

 

* * *

 

 

They find a house, a nice one that isn’t too far away from the docks where it overlooks the ocean, where there’s a field of grass, where there’s a stone path, cracked and worn but shows a story. She insists it’s the one, the one that holds their future and he couldn’t agree more. Real estate isn’t expensive in Storybrooke, and with their combined salaries, they purchase the house immediately and begin to move in.

 

Packing up their belongings is more of _throwing things at each other_ because both of them are having too much fun like children to even consider any of this as an important job. It’s no surprise they’re both happy though, happier than they’ve ever been.

 

Out of all the patience he has - he is a patient man - moving into the house is the one thing he has very little patient for. He’s constantly anxious about sorting everything, having pieces of furniture arranged properly, breaking in the bed in _their_ new bedroom and everything else. (It’s good to say he doesn’t leave out the idea of children because there is a spare room already.)

 

Tourists start piling into Storybrooke which leaves Liam busy with the sailing company. David is constantly switching between his Sheriff duties and Mary Margaret’s pregnancy. Elsa is busy taking care of Michael, and Emma is doing both her job as a Sheriff on most days while coming home - a _fucking home_ \- to a cleanly, new, organized house thanks to Killian. Everyone is fairly occupied with some sort of job now that he hasn’t gotten the chance to tell Liam how the original fake dating fiasco started.

 

Usually when he’s out with Emma (safe to say he’s taken her out on a couple more dates now), their affection is much more open. He glances at her when he hopes no one is paying attention (utter failure, that), hushed whispers in each other’s ears, her head resting on his shoulder, hands always intertwined together no matter where they are.

  
(Despite having stupid arguments about who’s going to wash the dishes or the refusal to get out of bed on lazy weekend mornings.)

 

However, he wouldn’t trade a day of what he has now for anything else. He already has everything he wants.

  
And months tend to pass by quickly, everyone beginning to get back into their schedules. Emma coming home to dinners he forges up in the time he has, David, Robin and Killian out at the bar once every couple of weeks for a guys night out, Killian and Emma babysitting the lad. The only thing that changes is the fact Mary Margaret’s due date is soon which means another child entering into the Storybrooke population.

 

He still wants his own kid with the woman he loves some day. He speaks to Emma about it and she doesn’t seem against the idea at all, maybe hesitant, but her answer definitely doesn’t disappoint.

 

“I wouldn’t mind, Killian, but right now with everything else I don’t think our timing would be quite right.”

 

And he couldn’t agree more, so he drops the subject with a kiss to her forehead before he shuffles his way down the hallway - the wooden floor beneath his feet slippery - to go take a shower.

 

He likes this new Emma Swan. The one that’s come out of her shell and isn’t completely afraid of any love or affection, the one that is open to ideas and done with the one of running. If anything, he’s proud of her even if they didn’t exactly get started on the prettiest of circumstances.

 

There have been times where he gets a call from Elsa or Liam about how Emma is passed out on their couch while Michael is completely tuckered out in his crib. He’ll go there and pick her up - the ways she rubs her eyes and groans in complaints when he accidentally wakes her up remind him of a child. He’ll carry her up the small porch stairs and into _their home_ , and he’ll help her change out of her clothes while her bones and mind are exhausted and asleep, then he’ll tuck her into their bed with no less than a kiss to her lips and a whispered “Goodnight” and “I love you.”

 

Sometimes he’ll stare at the darkened walls of their bedroom, the aqua blue reflecting back into his mind while he listens to the soft, deep breaths from the woman next to him. Sometimes he’ll quietly sneak out of their room and onto the porch, staring out to the sea. But whatever it is, he feels really at home, some feeling he hasn’t ever felt before.

 

After nights of thinking, after being together for quite a while now, he starts to plan how he wants to propose because he knows, he _knows_ she’s the one for him and that he’ll never quite be able to be with anyone else because Emma Swan has ruined that; he only loves her, and it’s unconditional without any strings attached. After hours of looking around in a jewelry store, he finds the one ring he wants (not something complicated or too expensive), and keeps the box in his jacket pocket.

 

But he knows he’ll find the time to be just right when he proposes. (Maybe a little less traditional considering they’ve never been one to follow the usual relationship traditions.) If anything, he wants it to be memorable.

 

So he keeps the ring in its box and he keeps that box tucked away inside of his jacket for later purposes.

  
They’re in love, they’re happy, and they’ve done it together. It’s all he’ll ever need anyways.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I’m sort of an awkward person when it comes to writing smut, but take it anyways because these two need to do the do. This epilogue, we get glimpses of their daily life, so it’s not something like a consistent plot through the chapter. (That means a lot of cuts and progression.)

It takes him one month to decide when to propose, weeks to delay that plan due to some urged circumstances, and days before he decides he’d rather do it now or never.

 

It’s not the best proposal in any case, but it works and she says the exciting “yes” anyways which has him slipping the ring onto her finger and pulling her toward him, his lips crashing against hers forcefully before he drops his forehead against hers, telling her how much he loves her, how he can’t even express all of his love to her in words or actions.

 

A tear drops and he quickly brushes it away, her smile still beaming at him, sending messages and leaving ideas all inside of his head.

 

And yes, she’s sick - pale and hardly able to talk - but it doesn’t stop him from kissing her.

 

Killian leaves her to sleep, considering she’s still off the charts with her temperature in _their_ bedroom, the door partly kept open in case she calls for him. She’s stubborn - when she first got sick, she refused it and said she wasn’t - and he’s the only one who can take care of her.

 

But he’s happy, he has a fiancée, a woman he’s going to fucking _marry_.

 

Today may just be the best day of his life - so far.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The best day of his life is when he actually marries her many, _many_ , months later. (Michael Jones has a way of ruining plans - that excuse of an active toddler.)

 

The vows full of emotions and promises, the small crowd of their friends (and his family, obviously), before Archie pronounces them husband and wife, he can’t stop grinning. He’s so unbelievably glad he’s fallen in love with her. Maybe he’s crazy, but she’s beautiful, not just appearance (though she is still a vision) but with her personality, who she is inside out.

 

And he knows everything from late night dates to when they’re in bed and not ready to sleep yet, just talking about nothing in particular.

 

But let’s be real, he’s learned about every inch of her body which he chooses to use to his advantage the night of their marriage.

 

 _“Jesus,”_ she moans against his shoulder.

 

“Definitely _not_ my name,” he teases, an eyebrow raising as he looks at her. He can’t single out what he’s feeling, bliss, joy, a dose of reality assuming it is a dream? He cups her cheek with his hand, his thumb grazing over the apple of her cheek. “We’d best get the dress off.”

 

She complies, turning around for him and he unzips it, watching it fall to the wooden floorboards of their house, but his eyes aren’t easily averted from her figure, not when she’s _almost_ naked. He shuffles around the dress before latching his mouth back to hers, hearing her sharp intake of a breath which has him smirking against her lips, his tongue grazing over her upper lip.

 

He’s not even paying attention to her roaming hands, her hands already unbuttoning his suit jacket, and then the tie. He lets her do as she please, at least, for now he does, but he plans on not just fucking her, but making love to her (even though they’ve done that plenty of times now). He kisses down the side of her neck as he feels the weight of the jacket and the wrapping of the tie around his neck gone, the sound of the jacket hitting the ground (or the wall, god the woman has strong arms).

 

“You are gonna leave a mark for _everyone_ to see, won’t you?” she asks, just as she gasps.

 

He chuckles, inhaling the scent of the use of her perfume which smells just like Emma _Jones_. “You’re _mine_ ,” he growls against her skin, feeling her fingers work at the buttons on his dress shirt, “and they’ll _all_ know it.”

 

“You’re an animal in bed,” she grumbles.

 

“ _Pirate_ ,” he retorts, defying her statement of comparison for another he prefers.

 

She’s fast tonight, impatient. His pants and belt are chucked off to the side by her in no time, her hand rubbing his hardened length through the fabric of his briefs. “ _Bloody hell_ ,” he mutters, tumbling toward the bed in a mess, his hand managing to unclasp the back of her bra, throwing it to the side. “Emma,” he breathes against her skin, one hand moving to cup her breast while the other hooks past her underwear to rip them off.

 

Her eyes are shut and he assumes it’s the pleasure, but _god_ , even with the freedom of his cock from his pants, the briefs start making him uncomfortable. He slips them off before climbing on top of her, his lips descending on hers again, silencing the noises that threaten to escape from her lips. He feels her fingers sift through his hair, but her other hand? The ability for her to wrap her hand around his erection makes him break away from her lips, his fingers twitching at her sides on the messy bedsheets.

 

His head eventually hits the headboard of the bed with his eyes squeezed shut, her mouth around him and this is _not_ okay, he was originally guiding this entire thing but now she’s wanting to give him pleasure and it’s working - as unfair as it is. His hand gently tightens in her hair but he doesn’t tug, only letting out a strangled groan from the back of his throat as his breathing becomes more laboured.

 

“Emma…”

 

Dear god does this make him want her more at the moment. But she doesn’t let him come, no, she stops and he sighs heavily to catch his breath. Torturous part of pleasuring him is over - he pushes forward, pinning her down beneath her, one hand drifting in between her thighs, his mouth falling to her breasts.

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

He chuckles. “That’s the idea,” he mumbles, inserting two fingers into her. The faint cry that comes from her has him grinning like a bloody wanker, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care at all.

 

“ _Killian_ -” her voice hitches, lips parted, “- god, oh _god_.”

 

“What do you want, love? You want me to fuck you already?” he asks hoarsely. He’s usually not this vocal, but _damn it_ he loves her and this is _their_ night and it’s an exception. “Swan, you’re _dripping_ ,” he teases with a quiet voice next to her ear.

 

He feels her shudder beneath him, making him grin as he pumps his fingers in and out of her a couple more times before she’s whimpering out his name in defeat, demanding for _him_ to be _inside_ of her already. He hears her breaths loud and clear, the fact that she’s still panting because as she’s teased him, he’s only going to do the same back to her. He kisses her again after pulling his fingers out, _harder_ this time around, both of them barely on edge already.

 

“Fuck me already,” she mumbles against his lips. He kneels up on the bed to go grab a condom, but she tugs his wrist, bringing him back to her. “I’m on the pill, forget the condom,” she tells him breathily.

 

The voice is all pleading and begging, he can’t deny her request by this point. Her legs wrap around his waist as he slides in slowly, letting her adjust quickly. He starts to move, building up the pace while the both of them are moaning loudly, hardly able to contain what sounds want to come out. He has her caged in, his arms braced at each side of her body. He can feel her fingernails scratch down his back (well _that’s_ going to leave a mark for a week or two), but he doesn’t feel the pain, not with all of the blood rushing through his veins at the very moment.

 

Whatever feeling is going through him is buzzing, his stomach doing flips but he feels so free at the moment, he doesn’t even notice anymore. “Gods, love, you feel incredible,” he grunts, managing to keep his pace on track.

 

She doesn’t respond to that, her fingers still working at his back. He still feels her breath on his skin, despite the bit of distance between their faces, but with him working this hard and her clinging onto him like her life depends on it, it’s not much of a surprise.

 

When she first comes, the sound of “Oh _god_ , Killian” is already pushing him toward his final hold as well. Both of them are already a sweaty mess, and _combined_ when he falls on top of her after reaching his climax, he kisses her once more, chastely, before getting off of her to go grab himself two towels so they can clean themselves up.

 

He sighs in contentment later with her wrapped in his arms, her nose pressed against his collarbone.

 

“Good job with wearing me out, _pirate_ ,” she mutters.

 

He kisses the top of her head. “Always welcome for it to happen again, my love.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Grinning, he responds, “And I with you.”

 

And he knows this is forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The morning after is a mess, both of them realizing they have a bedroom to clean up, but neither of them caring because they’re _actually married_. And it’s devotion, neither of them really caring about what’s to come, only knowing that they’ll face whatever it is together.

 

She groans when she swings her legs out of bed.

 

“Too rough for you last night?” he murmurs, sitting up behind her and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

 

“Hell no,” she retaliates, “slept in a bad position last night.”

 

“Ah.” He hums, pressing his fingers into the back of her shoulder blades, providing her a good massage.

 

She turns around after he’s done, kissing his cheek. “Thanks.”

 

“Not a problem, love.”

 

“We made a mess,” she mumbles, picking up her discarded bra and underwear off the floor. “ _But_ … totally worth it,” she adds on slowly, going through the closet to pick out her clothes for the day. He just stays on the bed, comfortably where he is, and watches her. “You just gonna keep staring, _husband_?”

 

He opens his mouth to say something, but instead it forms a smile and he shakes his head. “As beautiful as you are standing there, I have to fix that squeaky door you’ve been constantly complaining about,” he says. “Though if I could sit here and stare at you all day, I would.”

 

“I need to shower,” she mumbles after rolling her eyes at him.

 

“As do I.”

 

Oh, they shower… together.

 

(He fixes the door eventually, not hearing the end of it from her when she comes barreling in assuming he hasn’t done it yet. He silences her with a kiss and a smug “you’re welcome” when he pushes the door open for her to find it’s no longer making the _obnoxious squeaky noise_.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Their honeymoon is literally spending their day in pajamas (or no clothes at all) in their home, drinking hot cocoa with cinnamon while they binge on movies and television series. Neither of them feel like leaving town - or even the country - and he can’t find time to book the _Jolly_ out when it’s being used for some tourists during the days and nights.

 

And it’s unfortunate that David has to handle all the tourist attraction while the one other right-hand Sheriff and Deputy are in their own home all lazy.

 

 _Home_.

 

He still smiles at the idea, knowing that he can return back to a house where _his wife_ lives with him, the place where they’re building their lives. Can you blame him for being a giddy man? He just got married after months of waiting, after having their relationship first tested in the first place.

 

They sink into a new routine.

 

He cooks on most days, she helps out sometimes (though her culinary abilities don’t do much for him, not that he minds - as long as he spends time with who he loves), and then they go out for Granny’s once or twice a week for dinner, sitting at the table and talking about how David has been trying to deal with the baby and how he complains about the interesting tourists he’s had unpleasant run-ins with. Though it mainly ends up with Granny smiling at the two of them, Ruby watching too, and it’s weird, the newlywed couple who happens to be partners in justice, known throughout town.

 

“I’m going to assist Liam with the business,” he blurts out one day, watching a curious eyebrow raise on her forehead. “Part-time.”

 

“That… sounds great,” she says, smiling up at him.

 

His fingers comb through her hair, her smile breathtaking, _happy_ for him. “That means I won’t see you often at work,” he mumbles, pursing his lips at the thought. But he is very relieved to know that Emma doesn’t mind him taking back the CEO position for awhile, despite their current schedule together at work.

 

She chuckles. “We see each other at home, like right now, every day. And you said part-time, so I’ll still see you around the station sometimes anyways, right?”

 

His heart clenches in that good way, his heart fluttering at how amazing this woman is, how he’s utterly and hopelessly in love with her. Whenever he thinks he can’t love her anymore, she finds another way to prove him wrong. “That you are, sweetheart,” he eventually whispers. He leans down and kisses her quickly.

 

They’re not in the best position, her head on his lap, sprawled across the couch, his hand playing with her hair while his other arm rests on the back of the couch, both of them watching the new Avengers: Age of Ultron, on Netflix.

 

Yes, _home_.

 

“ _And_ , I get you all to myself during the winter season.”

 

He groans, closing his eyes and hitting his head on the back of the couch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A night in a distances time away, he returns home late at night after babysitting Michael, Liam saying Elsa and him required a date, time away from their child for at least _once_. So of course as the Uncle he is, he volunteers, finding himself back home late.

 

Emma’s asleep on the couch, a book open, but fallen on her chest.

 

Grinning, he takes the book off of her which makes her stir a little, one eye cracking open. Despite her tired look, she smiles sleepily at him and he descends to press a kiss to her lips before hooking his arm under her knees and waist, picking her up. He makes his way down the dark hallway, the silhouette of picture frames hanging upon the walls, as he pushes the door open to their bedroom, setting her down on their queen-sized bed.

 

“Goodnight, Emma.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They’ve been married for a _year_.

 

He’s been married with his stubborn, infuriating, but loving and incredible woman for an entire year now.

 

And it’s great, fantastic - _perfect_.

 

He loves her so bloody much it’s probably unhealthy, but he doesn’t care. Every morning when he wakes up next to her, both of them wishing for five more minutes in bed, it’s everything he could have asked for and more. Every night when she’s already under the covers after he finishes up in the washroom, her mouth tastes like mint against his when they share a quick goodnight kiss.

 

Some afternoons she’ll bring him lunch to the office at the company’s new office building, but sometimes he’ll visit her at the station, if she’s even there.

 

(It’s also safe to say he’s already had his way over his desk at the new office a couple of times, though he’s careful with the blind and the door being locked. Though he loves to insist, “That’s where the fun comes in, love,” he just doesn’t want his _brother_ to walk in on them having a moment...

 

Maybe one day the entire uncalled for closet ordeal will _not_ occur again. Best not to ever repeat that, though it’s been burned into his memory already.)

 

“Michael is turning into a sailor and he’s only turning three,” she mutters after an exhausting day, falling onto the couch as he closes the door to their home behind him. “Kid is gonna learn how to swim before anything else, or maybe he’ll learn to sail because he has a father and an Uncle who would do that to carry on the entire Jones Sailing company.”

 

“What can I say, love? The sea is in our blood.”

 

“Oh yeah,” she grumbles, “ I bet.”

 

There’s something… off about her today.

 

“Emma,” he begins carefully, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“ _Emma_ ,” he repeats, furrowing his eyebrows. “What is it?”

 

She stands up, noticing her take a deep breath, pausing before she walks up to him, placing her hands on his chest. “I’m pregnant.”

 

Now that is not something he’s expected at all. He blinks, his mouth agape, staring at her, realizing that she’s indeed telling him the truth, that this is real -

 

“You’re just… gonna be silent?”

 

“No, love - oh _god_.” He shakes his head, a smile gracing his lips. “I’m thrilled, Emma,” he states.

 

But he can’t believe this. He’s going to be a father, a bloody _father_ , and he can’t - he can’t understand, he can’t comprehend what’s going on because this is a dream. He’s wanted kids for awhile now, but he knows, knows that she wanted to take it slow, but now? Now, god he’s going to have a daughter or a son, and he’s _beyond_ ecstatic for that.

 

“How long?”

 

“A little over a month, I think,” she says, merely guessing with a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know, I just realized… I was late, and I took three tests to confirm it. I know how much you’ve wanted kids -”

 

He ducks down, fusing his mouth with hers quickly, emotions running high inside of him. “I’m happy, love. _So_ happy,” he murmurs, kissing her again, his hand drifting to her stomach, which is of course still flat, but he is trying to believe what he’s been told. “Should we book an appointment with Whale?”

 

“I’ve got that covered.” She yawns. “For a moment I thought you were gonna take off.”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“Well you stood there staring at me with your mouth open, a dazed expression on your face,” she elaborates. “Can you blame me?”

 

He grins, shaking his head. “I suppose not.” He bends down after to face her middle. “Hey, wee one, I’m your father,” he quietly says. “You better treat your mother well. She can be a tad bit infuriating and I reckon any mood swings caused by you will be a pain in the arse.”

 

The hit on the top of his head makes him jump. “ _Thanks_ ,” she says sarcastically.

 

“You’re welcome, darling.” He chuckles before dipping down to kiss her again, but to also drag her to bed since she’s clearly exhausted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her mood swings are more than frequent, but she’s still herself, mostly on nights.

 

“For crying out loud, Killian, your clothes are still in the dryer.”

 

“Sorry!” he exclaims, slipping his red and black plaid shirt on as he saunters into the laundry room. “I promise I’ll have it out of there next time, love.” He kisses her cheek before grabbing his pile of clothes from the dryer.

 

Her bump is visible now, but she’s still beautiful and that child - _son_ \- is beautiful as well.

 

They’re still two months away from the approximate due date, but the pregnancy is going smoothly.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she mumbles, waving it off. “Mood swings suck.”

 

“Oh _yes_ , I’d know.”

 

She groans. “You’re not helping.”

 

“Apologies, m’lady.” He mock bows with a small smirk before returning back to the bedroom with his clothes, neatly folding them and setting them in the drawers.

 

It’s already a thing that she occupies the closet and he has his stuff in all the drawers. She prefers hanging clothes instead of folding, so of course he gladly took that out of her hands. But no, seeing her today, it doesn’t end there. She walks into the bedroom while he’s folding the last of his clothes and gets herself on the bed, facing the ceiling, one hand resting on her stomach.

 

No words though. Nothing. Just silence.

 

“How do you do it? How do you put up with my always-changing behaviour?”

 

He sets the last t-shirt of his in the drawer and glances back at her, an eyebrow raised at the suddenness of her question. “Simple,” he starts, “your mood swings are very little of an issue when I’m going to be a father and when I’m already the husband of the woman I _love_ and _cherish_ every day. Besides, I’m used to it and I’ve learned I just need to bribe you in the many ways I’m aware of before you’re calm again. And I don’t think we need a reminder about the fact of how patient I am with you.”

 

“I forgot we fake dated.”

 

“That too.”

 

“You were really patient with me on that,” she mumbles. “Even when we had that one argument.”

 

He still recalls that. And god knows what else will come up one day to have them fight and argue, but they’ve already had small arguments before this, before the pregnancy, before the marriage. But it’s healthy, it’s apart of them, and neither of them every hold a grudge or manage to stay mad at the other in the first place. He doesn’t ever need to forgive her because there’s nothing to ever forgive since he knows she may do something for a purpose. They don’t yell at the top of their lungs when they banter or argue - it’s calm talks.

 

And if she avoids him, well, he lets her for a little while, gives her a moment to herself before she either finds him, or he finds her and sorts it out.

 

So yes, their relationship is by no means flawless, but he loves it (and her) the way it is and he knows the feeling is mutual on her side as well.

 

“I cannot wait until I pop this baby out.”

 

He laughs. “Well, the lad will be out in two months time.”

 

“If I can survive that,” she mutters to herself.

 

“You _can_ and you _will_ ,” he assures her, “and until then, don’t forget I’m still here. I’d do anything for you.”

 

Her answering smile is enough.

 

This one time, he begins to think that forever isn’t enough for him - but as long as he has her, everything will be right.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on _that_ note, we are done here! I will revisit this verse time to time for other installments, but that has been the epilogue, guys. Thanks for all of the comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. It means a lot to me. This, by far, has been my most popular story and it's thrilling to say that. 175+ kudos is amazing and the attention I've got for the story is pretty phenomenal.
> 
> From now, I'll be focusing on my other two WIPs, across the sea and keep passing me by. See you guys around, cheers!


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